


On The Road

by celestialwishes



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bruce is trying, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Depression, Dick is trying to be one, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gunshot Wounds, How Do I Tag, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idk what I’m doing anymore ok, Injury Recovery, Jason Todd is a good brother, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, The Author Regrets Nothing, This somehow got more plot than I thought it would, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Feels, Tim Drake Has Feelings, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 22:23:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20731655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialwishes/pseuds/celestialwishes
Summary: Tim feels everything start to fade around him, and he wonders if he imagines Damian screaming his actual name or the look of sheer terror on the kid’s face.Well, it looks like surviving the night was a big fail,he thinks before everything goes black.—Tim’s relationship with the family has spiraled downwards since Damian’s arrival, and he’s kept it bottled up until he gets shot protecting Damian. Now, all his secrets are spilling and no one is happy about it.Everyone realizes that just because Tim says he’s fine, doesn’t actually mean he is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Post Malone’s newest album, and “On The Road” just reminds me too much of Tim. Thus, this fic was born.
> 
> It’s my first Batfam fic, so please go easy on me lmao :))

There were few times in his life where Tim was caught by surprise. His mind always works rapidly, and he knows all possible details to any type of situation he’s been put in. Or, at the very least, he tries his best to make sure he does. Because that’s all he really can do, anyway. 

He knows it’s his mind that saves him. Knows it’s why he became Robin in the first place. Or rather, _was_ Robin. The reason why Batman was always sending him the files of cases his frustration got in the way of. Why Jason always came to him in annoyed necessity when he needed help and had no one else to go to for the things he needed. Why he was allowed to be head of Wayne Enterprises. Why the Titans (No matter how vehemently they denied it) allowed him into the leadership role.

It’s funny. Because for how much they use him for his intelligence, they must’ve thought he was pretty stupid to not see why. Funny, but not surprising. That kind of stuff didn’t surprise him anymore. Not since Damian appeared. Not since Bruce disappeared. Not since Dick became Batman or... _took_ the one thing that he cherished so deeply and handed it to the demon on a silver platter. No. His surprise was ended upon Bruce’s return.

When nothing changed. 

Tim wasn’t surprised then. Things were easier this way. Or at least, that’s what he’d been telling himself the past year and a half.

It was simpler to think none of this existed. That Gotham, _Batman_, none of it existed. It eased his mind bit by bit. Being miles upon miles away from the very people he’d call home. 

_This_ however.

It was normal for him to visit Gotham. Despite how much his skin crawled being in his hometown, and how guarded and aware he was of his surroundings, he had to come. Of course, he’d always visit every month or so, taking up responsibilities from WE HQ that he couldn’t complete from Titans Tower. He always tried his best to stay under the radar, not wanting to attract any _unwanted_ attention from the reasons he stayed so far away from Gotham. Calculating everything meticulously whenever it came to visits in New York, he made sure his visits occurred between periods of time where Bruce had no possible business around WE and the rest of the family were too caught up in their personal lives or intense missions to pay attention to his presence in the city.

He was always careful. He had to be. 

Somehow, however, this seemed to slip by him this time.

There were really no complications so far in his visit. He’d gotten through the airport to his apartment unnoticed, listened to Oracle talk to the others from the muted comm that he hadn’t spoken into for over a year, pleased that his drop by went by to their unawareness before turning it off completely. It wasn’t until the next morning that he realized he miscalculated. Badly. 

His eyes filtered through the files, already configuring ways in which he'd solve the small issues present in front of him. “How are the modifications of the W-4 Wraith fighter coming along? I know I haven’t been able to stop by to take a look at it since July.” Tim inquires, flipping through the pages. Tam, filtering through her own work on her tablet, smiles amusedly. “As remarkably functional as our aerospace branch has been doing, they’re troubled with the calculations of trajectory accommodating to the new adjustments. Day hasn’t gone by where they aren’t asking when that brain of yours is coming back.” 

Tim snorts, a small quirk of a smile growing on his lips. “I’ll make sure to stop by then.”

”I’ll let them know.” She adds. Tim peaks a look at her through the fallen dark strands of his bangs. He grins wildly, mischievously as a teasing glint passes through the deep blue of his eyes. “Don’t. I’m in the mood of a surprise.” Tam looks over at him, brow raised. “Always trying to be the savior.” She muses. Tim winks. “You know me too well.”

He turns back to his files and his eyes stop on a handwritten note. He frowns as he skims to read it. “Tam, we're having a charity event?” 

Tam hums, eyes not leaving her screen as the elevator dings to inform them they’ve reached the main floor. “Sounds familiar. Something my father probably came up with.” She steps out. 

He follows, reading over the sheet with furrowed brows. Tim feels uneasy. “As much as I appreciate charity events towards meta-teens, I don’t remember signing—“ He stops abruptly when his eyes filter up and meet familiar icy blue ones. 

Tim stood frozen, his eyes focused on Bruce who seemed just as surprised to see him standing in front of the elevator.

And _oh_. 

Now _that_ makes sense.

Bruce straightens from where he’s leaning on the conference table next to Lucius, his eyes calculating as they scan Tim’s face carefully.

Tam blinks in surprise at the billionaire as well. 

“Tim,” Bruce states calmly, however Tim can hear the hidden disappointment and suddenly feels disgusted in his own skin, trying to contain the urge to claw out of it.

A meticulously suit-clad Damian is standing next to his father, his arms crossed and his calm expression becomes completely annoyed when his gaze lands on Tim. 

“What are you doing here?” Tim’s voice breaks slightly, and he clears his throat trying to compose himself. He feels Tam’s hand squeeze his wrist gently and it relaxes him, grounds him down. He’s able to smooth his shocked gaze into a neutral expression, eyes empty. 

“As if we have any purpose to explain to you, Drake. We should be the ones asking _you_ what you’re doing here.” Damian sneers, and Bruce puts a firm hand on the 12 year old’s shoulder. “Damian.” He simply says. Damian glances up at his father with a scowl, looking away. 

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Drake-Wayne.” Lucius greets with a kind smile. 

“Just Drake.” Tim smiles a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Bruce flinches slightly at that. “Drake is enough. It’s nice to see you as well, Mr. Fox.”

”I didn’t know you were in Gotham.” Bruce interrupts and Tim tenses slightly. “How long have you been here?” His voice is smooth and clear, but Tim isn’t stupid. He can hear the older man’s annoyance. 

“About two days or so now.” Tim replies curtly, his voice firm, yet his eyes refuse to look higher than his tie.

Bruce’s heated gaze doesn’t leave his face. “You didn’t come to the Manor.” His voice is devoid of emotion, but his words attack Tim violently.

Tim can’t stand this. Bruce’s harsh eyes hold his throat in a grip tight as vice, choking all words from him. He can’t do anything but shrug helplessly. 

They stay like this for a moment longer, before Bruce straightens. “If you all don’t mind, I’d like to have a few minutes alone with Tim.”

Tim grinds his teeth, keeping his cool. 

“Of course.” Lucius stands, eyes serious and face grim as he passes Tim, letting his hand gently pat the 17 year old on the shoulder before he slips out with Tam.

Damian stands proudly in his spot. 

Bruce sighs, finally letting his eyes slip away from Tim to look down at his youngest. “Damian.”

Damian glares. “Tt.” He huffs, stomping around the conference table to glance at Tim, his eyes filled with contemplation for a moment before he bumps past him roughly. Tim lets out a tried sigh when the demon brat finally leaves the room.

Bruce sits down, crossing his arms and pinning Tim with an accusatory gaze. “Would you care to take a seat, Tim? We have _a lot_ to talk about.” 

Tim knows better than to find a way out of this. So he walks over and sits across the other man silently. He closes his files and places them in front of him, his eyes staring at them blankly.

Bruce stays silent for a moment. “Where have you been?” 

Tim almost wants to laugh. “You know where I’ve been.” He replies emotionlessly. 

“I’m not talking about Titan’s Tower.” Bruce states. “I’m asking why you haven’t come home in almost two years.” 

See, _this_ is what Tim’s been trying so hard to avoid. This confrontation. The reason he only visited Gotham every full moon. Or why he planned his visits where he knew he wouldn't run into any of the bats, with the exception of Jason.

“I’ve been busy.” He controls the shake in his voice. 

Bruce clenches his hands into tight fists. “Really? And the times you’ve been in Gotham? I go over weekly reports, Tim. I know you’ve been coming to Gotham at least once a month for the span of a week.”

”What’s your point?” Tim lets his eyes follow the curves and turns of the **Wayne Enterprises** print on his files. 

“You could’ve came to the Manor any of those times and you didn’t.”

”Like I said,” Tim says darkly. “I’ve been busy.”

Bruce snaps then. “Damn it Tim— can you at least _look_ at me?”

Tim’s eyes automatically go up and meet Bruce’s. The older man looks tired and his gaze is filled with concern. Tim wants to laugh again. 

“What do you need from me, Bruce? Cases? Send the files to the tower and I’ll have them done as soon as I can. I’m working on this months major agendas for WE and the rest will be handled in San Francisco so you don’t need to worry about that.” 

Bruce looks pissed then. “I don’t need anything from you Tim. You missed Christmas and Easter. I can’t remember the last time you came to a family dinner and your room has been collecting dust for years. I haven’t even been able to run tests on your physicals and health since you were Robin.” 

Tim feels his heart squeeze at the mention of the old mantle he had. “So this is about my performance on the field.” He says coldly. “I can assure you, Bruce, that I’ve been handling myself just fine. I rarely, if ever, make mistakes.” 

Bruce slams a fist on the table. “Tim—“ he warns, but all of a sudden the door is opening and Tam pokes her head in, expression cool but eyes filled with worry. “Excuse me for the interruption, Mr. Wayne. But Mr. Drake is needed downstairs.” 

Bruce looks murderous as he glares at the glass table in front of him. 

Tim swallows the lump down his throat. “I’ll be down in a few, Tam.” 

Tam nods slowly, hesitating before leaving once again.

Tim stands. “I thought you were busy, which is why I came. I see that you can handle things just fine here so I’ll be leaving for San Francisco tomorrow.” 

Bruce glares at him. “I don’t think so, Tim. We’re having a charity event for the new Meta-teens facility. I already cleared your name for attendance.” 

Tim almost throws his files in Bruce’s face. “Great. Thanks. When is it?” He deadpans. 

“Friday.” 

Tim turns to make his escape when Bruce’s voice stops him. “I want you at the Manor for dinner tonight.”

Tim squeezes his eyes shut in a painful grimace, hand slacking on the knob. “I’ll see what I can do.” _Lies, lies, lies_.

”Alfred misses you.” Bruce’s murmurs, sounding weak suddenly. Tim is too afraid to turn around and see his face.

”Dick, he—“

With that, Tim yanks the door open and let’s it shut loudly behind him.

_Fuck Richard Grayson_.

-

“Well, Timbers. You’ve caused quite the drama this time ‘round, haven’t ya?” Jason mused, watching Tim walk onto the balcony with a cup of steaming black coffee. He was sitting on the ledge, letting his feet dangle with his head thrown back to see the last rays of sun go down. His helmet was sitting next to him, domino mask blocking the green of his eyes from Tim’s view. 

Tim didn’t answer, instead letting the strands of his dark hair cover his face from Jason as he stared down into his cup, leaning against the ledge to face the city he grew up in with heavy eyes. “What do you need this time, Hood?”

Because that’s really all it was. Jason only came to him when he needed something. Why else would he? That’s all anyone came to him for anymore. 

Jason is quiet for a moment, glancing at Tim with a small frown. “Just wondering if you’ve come across anything new with that shipment case I gave you last time.” 

Tim turns to him with a weak smile. “Sorry. Nothing else from what I’ve already told you. I’ll keep looking into it.”

Jason was the only one from the family Tim would allow to even see a glimmer of his exhaustion.

Because Jason didn’t care. Not at all.

Jason looks back down to the blur of car and building lights, the quiet murmur of city life settling between them comfortingly. “You coming to dinner, Replacement?”

Tim looks up, watching as a bird flew past to land on a telephone line, settling comfortably. “No, J.” 

This is the part where Jason leaves. But he doesn’t. He continues to sit and says nothing more. 

Jason doesn’t care.

He doesn’t.

-

Here’s what Tim didn’t tell Bruce, or even Jason. He did visit the Manor when he could. But always with caution. And there really only was one reason he did.

”Master Timothy!” Alfred smiles brightly, eyes shining as he pulled the younger man into a tight hug. “Hey, Alfred.” Tim says softly, hugging back just as tight.

Tim heard the excited barking as Alfred pulls back and he’s suddenly knocked onto the floor of the porch with heavy paws on his chest. Titus licked his cheek and Tim giggles. “Hello to you too, Titus.” He sits up, ruffling the top of the Great Dane’s fur. Tim looks up at Alfred. “What, no burst of tears this time?” He teases.

Alfred hesitates before he offers a small smile. “Master Bruce... Made his encounter with you prominent to the whole family.”

Tim sighs with annoyance at that. Of course Bruce told the bats about him being in Gotham. He was probably complaining about him all day. “Well, that’s fun. How angry was he?” Tim asks, coming to a stand and following Alfred into the Manor as the door closes behind them. 

“Master Bruce is not angry with you, Master Timothy.” Alfred states calmly. “He is merely worried. As all of us are.” 

_Yeah, right_.

”I can hold my own.” Tim mutters, following the butler into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. 

“Can and should are two very different things, Master Timothy. Simply because you can handle yourself alone does not mean that you should be alone.” 

“I’m not alone.” Tim says quietly, thinking back to Kon, Bart, Cass... 

_Not anymore_.

He swallows the thought down as soon as it had risen. 

“Do not take me for a fool, Master Timothy. The Titans are wonderful company and I am pleased to see you happy with them, and that you have someone to lean on. But do not make the mistake of thinking that I am not aware of the emptiness of the tower on holidays or during weekends to visit family. An opportunity you never chose to pick up.” There’s evident sadness in the old man’s voice, his shoulders slightly hunched over the kettle where he was beating up tea.

”I’m always too busy to pay attention to stuff like that.” He lies smoothly. Alfred shakes his head, knowing Tim too well to fall for something like that so Tim instead changes the topic. “You know I’m not a tea person.” He pouts.

Alfred smiles again, and Tim considers it a win. “No, you are not. However, now isn’t the time to be hunched over a desk working days on end. Now is the time to relax and tell me about your life.”

Tim can never say no to Alfred. So he sits in his favorite chair by the fireplace, a cup of warm green tea in his hands and just talks. Alfred sits by him on the sofa with a content smile, letting his eyes wonder across the tens of hundreds pictures in the room of the family.

”— and Bart, man. Kid’s an idiot, I swear. Cassie and Kon had a flying race to see who was faster and he just sat there pouting. Got worse when Gar came in and decided to race them as a Peregrine falcon, which is like, you know, the fastest bird in existence— but anyway. As soon as that happened Bart just exploded. Because no matter how many times he tried to convince BB to race him as a cheetah he was completely turned down.” Tim blabbers, happiness shining in his eyes and a beaming smile placed on his face.

Alfred laughs to himself. “Mr. Allen seems like quite a handful.”

Tim thinks for a moment, smile becoming more personal. “Well, they all are, honestly. But they’re my handful. And I love them. Dearly. I... don’t know where I’d be without them there with me.” He mutters. There’s soft mewling from behind Tim’s chair as Alfred the cat rounds to the front and jumps into Tim’s lap. Tim reaches down and scratches behind the adorable cat’s ears, listening to him purr with content as he snuggles further in.

”Demon Brat may be a pain, but his pets really are the cutest.” Tim grinned. It was always funny to him. When Damian first arrived at the Manor every stray animal he seemed to claim would imprint itself onto Tim, much to the Al-Ghul’s dismay. Because no matter how much Damian hated him, Titus was always jumping on him and Alfred was always crawling into his bed. Now he sees the two maybe twice a month if possible. But it seems that the adorable pets’ adoration of him has remained. It didn’t go one sided, either. Because Tim really did love both animals just as much. If not, more. 

Alfred looked like he was gonna reply when a bang from the front door was heard. Tim froze.

”PENNYWORTH!”

Fuck.

Tim stood sharply and Alfred followed pursuit, eyes wide. “I thought they didn’t finish patrol until five. It’s not even one yet.” He internally panics, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “They don’t.” Alfred replies, worried. 

That’s when Damian appears in the hallway, holding up a sluggish Jason. Both are still dressed in their suits, but Jason’s helmet is off and being carried by Damian. 

“Master Todd!”

Alfred is quick to rush over and take Jason’s weight onto his own shoulders. “He has been dowsed in Ivy’s poison. We have identified it as nothing more than a sleeping gas but father wants him in the cave to run analysis and ensure our suspicions are correct in assuming there is nothing more in his bloodstream.” 

Damian’s eyes land on Tim, and Tim doesn’t need to look behind the mask to see how furiously Damian is glaring at him. “Drake,” he scowls. “What are you doing in my home?”

Tim feels his chest squeeze painfully but he dutifully ignores Damian’s sour words, turning to Alfred. “Do you want me to carry him down?” 

Jason’s head sluggishly rose and he blinked blearily at Tim before grinning. “Timbo! What're you doin’ here buddy?” He yanks away from Alfred and almost face plants the floor if Tim wasn’t rushing forward to catch him and straighten him back up to a stand, supporting his weight. “Oops. Imma little dizzy.” He slurs. “Timmy! I said Timmers, let’s go to dinner. He said no Jason I’m gonna stand here and drink my coffee and look at the pretty sunset.” Jason mumbles the words together that only Tim heard, an embarrassing flush of pink growing on his cheeks as he scowls down at Jason. He mumbles some other gibberish about flying hotdogs and revolvers with evil faces before he passes out completely.

Tim (carefully) drops him onto the couch with a grimace. “Jesus.” 

“Drake! Step away from Alfred.” Damian hisses once again like the snake he is. Tim rolls his eyes as Alfred the cat rubs against his leg affectionately. “Don’t blame me for your cat loving me more than you.” 

“Drake, you—“

”Damian! Jay! Where’d you two go?”

Tim froze.

Dick rounds the corner, eyes filtering around until they land on Tim and he freezes in his step, body tensing.

The room is dead silent (apart from Jason’s annoying snoring) as Dick stares at Tim who has his back turned to the first Robin. Damian is also assessing Tim now, surprisingly quiet and his eyes filled with calculation. As if Tim was an equation he couldn’t solve. 

Tim can’t bring himself to turn and face Dick, instead choosing to stare down at Jason’s peaceful face. 

“Tim?”

Tim almost bursts into a panic upon hearing that soft voice of his older brother. Today was officially the _worst_ day ever.

There’s a swirl of heavy emotion sliding through Dick’s eyes before he smooths his pained expression into a bright smile. “Tim!”

Tim grinds his teeth, fists clenching. _You’re a fake, Dick Grayson_. 

“Thank you for the tea, Alfred. But I need to leave now.” 

Alfred for the most part, looks at Tim with despair and apology. “Of course, Master Timothy.”

“Wait, no! Tim—“ Dick steps forward with a hand reached out to him and Tim quickly steps a few feet away. Dick stops immediately, hurt flickering in his eyes.

He pulled back, rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes moved away from Tim and to the floor. “I, uh. I texted you about dinner earlier.” He says weakly then. It’s true. He’d received numerous of texts from Dick from the moment he’d left the office to dinner being over. Tim didn’t feel the need to even leave him on read, leaving them unopened.

Tim stares off to his right, eyes focused on the intricate designs engraved in the wood, expression emotionless. “I’ve been busy.”

Dick seems to have no idea what to do with himself, reaching out to fumble with the top of a lamp or shifting from foot to foot, settling on fiddling with his fingers. “It feels like it’s been ages since you’ve been to the Manor! When was the last time you even visited?”

”Two years.“ Tim answers flatly. Dick’s smile falters. “Two years? It’s really been that long?”

”You’d know, right?”

And it’s a low blow. Even for Tim. A bit of guilt does gnaw at him when he notices Dick flinch at the cold voice from the corner of his eye.

Dick looks down with a frown. It barely lasts five seconds before the first Boy Wonder’s beaming grin is back. “H-How about we have movie night? I always text you about them on Fridays, but, uh, you never show. And after the charity event, we can do it again when Jason’s feeling better. This time you can scold him for eating all the snacks. He’s been scarfing down your favorite popcorn every single movie night— you know, that Salted Carmel one you like so much.” He blabbers on, and Tim tries so hard not to snap and have a mental breakdown. 

“I’m busy.”

Dick looks frustrated then. “With that?”

”Titans business. Nothing that concerns you.” 

“They can last a night without you. Come on. You can tell me all the fun adventures you’ve been on so far.”

Tim wants to scream. _Fun adventures? _Watching Conner die, all the shit with Ra’s and The Council of Spiders, watching the titans get killed one by one, his fucking _spleen_. Tim seriously needs to find who’s giving Dick his information of Tim’s life the past few years because boy oh boy, he was _wrong_. Tim’s so furious that he can’t bring himself to answer, knowing he’d explode if he did. Dick, sadly, mistakes it for his compliance.

He walks around with his cheery smile he always has and grabs Jason to drag him down to the cave. “Let me just get Jason set up downstairs and debrief with Bruce once he’s back and we can watch something. You chose!” He blabbers on and Tim grinds his teeth together. “Alf, can you get some popcorn going? I hid the Carmel popcorn for Timmy on the top shelf in the pantry. Normal for Dami and I. Damian, change your clothes.”

”Of course, Master Dick.” Alfred looks hesitant but hopeful all the same, moving towards the kitchen. Dick’s gleaming, happy blue eyes meet Tim’s once more and Tim _hurts_. “I’ll just be 10 minutes, Timmy.” Then he disappears down the entrance to the cave, the bookcase closing behind him.

Tim turns, hunching over the chair and grabbing at his racing heart that squeezed painfully with his eyes tightly shut, face pulled in an obvious grimace. Everything was going wrong. It’s like everything he worked so hard to control, all those emotions and memories, _painful memories_, he tried to repress were all gushing out of him now from the mere sight of Dick. This is what Tim wanted to avoid. Going back to the way he was two years ago. It was dangerous being this close to the bats. He could explode at any given moment. Tim snaps his eyes open.

Straightening, he hurriedly goes over to the coffee table and shoves his phone in his pocket, grabbing his bag and his keys. Dick would be back as soon as possible and Alfred was probably almost done. God knows Bruce would appear in the door any minute now and Tim knew that when that would happen, there would be no escape from the manor until after the charity event. Maybe not even then. Bruce would find a way to keep him there for as long as he possibly could until Tim could snatch the opportunity to escape. There’s no way he’s putting himself through that situation. Bruce would find out about the spleen when he’d force a physical exam on him and he’d be fucked. Big time. He needed to get out of here. Now. 

Tim turns and the minute he looks up, he stops dead in his tracks.

Because he’d forgotten about Damian. Of course Damian was still here.

The current Robin was standing in the doorway of the room like he’d been for the past ten minutes, his arms crossed over his robin suit and his lips pressed firmly together in a grim line. He’d taken the domino off, and Tim was left staring into the pensive green eyes of the young boy.

Tim swallows thickly. “Don’t worry. I was just about to leave. I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.” He brushes past the little brat carefully, walking off to the door and grabbing the handle.

  
You’ve become even more pathetic than I had originally thought, Drake.” Damian suddenly sneers with venom. Tim’s hand went slack on the door knob. He stared blankly at the dark wood in front of him.

“Hey Damian,” he started, voice soft but blunt. Damian flinches in surprise at his name leaving Tim’s lips.

Tim pauses, feeling the silence grow between them. “Are they happy?”

Damian blinks in slight confusion. “I— What?”

”Are they happy?” Tim repeats. “Bruce, Dick, Jason, Steph, Barbara, Cass, Alfred... Are— Are they happy?”

Damian doesn’t understand. “I... Yes?”

“Are you?” Damian can’t see Tim’s face with the way his shoulders are hunched, back faced towards him. “Yes,” Damian can’t help but whisper.

Then Tim turns to look at him, and Damian is frozen in his place. Tears stream down the previous Robin’s face, bursting out of his glassy blue eyes as his face flushed and his lips trembled. Despite that, a smile grows on Tim’s face. His eyes are filled with genuine contempt, an honest look Damian hasn’t seen on Tim’s face before.

“I’m glad,” Tim tells him with a croaky voice, smile wide and yet his eyes read so much _pain_ that it strikes Damian breathless. “Make sure you stay that way. I hope you all do.”

Then Tim is gone.

Damian doesn’t like the swell of something heavy growing in him.

He realizes, suddenly, that he’s not happy.

And he’s not sure why.

-

Tim stares blankly at himself in the mirror. The concealer covered as much of his dark bags as they possibly could without looking too obvious, and his suit was crisp and smooth without a single wrinkle. His hair had been slightly trimmed and styled to frame his face nicely instead of covering it like it usually did. Tam truly was a lifesaver sometimes. His black dress shoes were polished and shining. He looked down at his watch. It was almost half past six. 

He looks back up at the mirror. He stares at himself once more, taking in his emotionless expression and empty eyes. He forces a smile onto his face. _No, that’s too fake_.

He stops, tries again. A smile. His eyes are still hollow. _Can you do anything right, Tim Drake_?

He takes a shaky breath in once more. Tries again with as much happiness as he can manage. _It’s just a smile, Tim. It’s not a hard thing to do. Just smile_.

He clenches his fists and goes back to a small reserved quirk of his lips, hoping he doesn’t looking miserable. _Just fucking **smile**_.

His phone dings.

His eyes snap away from the mirror and he pulls his phone out, looking down.

**We’re here.**

Tim closes his eyes, letting his heart go back to its normal speed. He opens them and looks back at himself a final time. “You’re okay, Tim.” He tells himself. The reflection staring back at him smiles.

_That’s it._

He takes the elevator down, and goes out the doors with a wave goodbye to the front desk of WE, going straight for the black limousine. The driver holds the door open and Tim sighs.

He slips in and looks out the window as the door shuts.

He can feel Bruce’s eyes on him, always can. “You look nice, Tim.”

Tim nods. “Thank you.”

“Where did you go yesterday?” Dick blurts out, an undertone of anger in his words.

”Titans business. It was important.” Tim answers with a clenched jaw, not looking over at the older man sitting next to him.

”Bullshit, Tim.” Dick barks, losing his patience.

”Dick. I told you not to talk about it. We'll talk about it after the event, okay? I don’t want to hear another word.” Bruce snarls.

Tim glares out at the blinding lights but his mind is in a panic. They’d told Bruce about his visit yesterday, of course Bruce would want to interrogate him about it.

Damian is shockingly silent, and Tim almost didn’t notice his presence in front of him. But as soon as his eyes met the younger boy’s, Damian quickly looked away with an uncomfortable scrunch in his face.

It makes Tim feel bad. He shouldn’t have said all that shit to the kid the other day.

“I cannot fathom why it is even necessary for Drake to ride with us when he is no longer a Wayne.” Damian sneers, looking so annoyed.

Okay, so Tim doesn’t feel bad anymore.

”What’s he talking about?” Dick turns to Tim.

Tim rolls his eyes but chooses not to answer, so Damian jumps at it once more. “He’s had his name legally changed back to Drake for months now. I’m surprised you aren’t aware of this, Grayson. I saw it on his mail in the office.”

Bruce’s eyes snap to Tim. “What?” He says sharply. “Is that true?”

Fucking demon brat.

Tim’s saved from answering when the car comes to a stop and the door is pulled open, flashing lights invading his vision.

Damian calmly slides out as if he hadn’t just started a civil war and strides down the red carpet.

Bruce grips Tim’s wrist tightly to stop him from leaving, causing Tim to tense when furious blue eyes stare down at him. “You and I, are going to have a very, _very_ long talk after the event. If you even _think_ about slipping off, I’ll come after you and drag you back to the manor myself. Understood?” Bruce growls in his terrifying voice, filled with fury. Tim swallows, throat dry. “Understood.”

Bruce let’s go, and his face smooths into his cheerful playboy persona.

Tim feels sick as he steps out after Damian, giving a small smile to cameras flashing in his face as he walks towards the entrance of the building. 

He’s going to fucking kill Damian.

Pressing two fingers against his temple, Tim squeezes his eyes shut and takes in deep breaths to calm himself. He should let it go. Despite having the strong urge to throw Damian into the wall across the room, he knew that would only add fuel to the fire. Damian wanted that reaction out of him because he was an asshole— and Tim wasn’t gonna give it to him. All he had to do was keep it calm and cool and disappear the first chance he got.

Bruce’s words were just empty threats falling on deaf ears. Tim hardly believed the man would go all the way to San Francisco for him. Not due to his inability, but from the fact that Bruce simply _didn’t_ _give a damn_.

He never cared the past two years to drag him away so Tim would have only himself to blame if he actually believed the bullshit Bruce told him now. Tim’s been through it already. He knows how Bruce works.

He just needed someone to release frustrations on. That just happened to be Tim now that he’s here in Gotham. Not that Tim cared. He’s always been that punching bag, even as Robin. That’s why he took the job up anyway. So no one else had to be.

_And you know you deserve it anyway_. That negative voice sings darkly in his mind, causing Tim to clench his teeth.

_There’s more important things to worry about rather than wallowing away in your own pathetic self pity, Tim_. He thinks to himself, smoothing his expression back into a serene look.

  
  
“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne! Fancy seeing you here!”

Tim sighed tiredly, turning with a beaming smile to talk up the socialites to the best of his ability.

-

Damian starts it. Damian _always_ starts it. No matter how desperately Tim tries to not lash out and give the kid the satisfaction of seeing his frustration, it’s almost impossible sometimes.

He’d finally been able to slip away from the crowd to use the bathroom, and Damian was frighteningly leaning against the wall across the door Tim came out of after finishing. They were the only two in the empty hallway, the sound of the others distanced because Tim really just needed a moment away. Now he realizes he’s made a mistake because Damian is here to start shit. 

Even after all the effort Tim put into letting go Damian outing him to Bruce about the name, not even planning on fighting the kid about it when they got back. He should’ve expected _Damian_ to be the one who wouldn’t let it go.

Tim pauses at the doorway separating the bathroom and the hallway, eyeing the fourth Robin warily. “Hey.”

Damian’s glaring green eyes are burning with glints of hatred. “It must be easy for you to be a _pretender_, huh Drake.”

The name squeezes at Tim’s heart because he hasn’t heard it from Jason in almost a full year and he forgot how much it _stung_. Because that’s what Tim was. Even if Jason had stopped, it didn’t mean Tim stopped _believing_ it. And now here’s Damian to remind him of the fact that it’s the way the others view him too.

Tim averts his gaze, letting out an irritated huff. “I’m not doing this with you right now, demon brat. Not here. Please try to act mature for _once_ in your life and realize where we are. This is _not_ the appropriate place or time for this.”

He turns to go back to the room but Damian moves in front of him with furious eyes. It hits Tim suddenly that Damian is _pissed_. And he has no idea why he is so angry.

“You can fake your smiles and laughs in front of these inferior idiots, but you don’t fool me, Drake. Even behind all your pretenses I can see how _miserable_ you are.” He hisses.

Tim clenches his fists, feeling himself beginning to boil over. “I don’t get you at all. Usually, with _normal people_, when you don’t like someone you just ignore them. But you... You just want me to fucking suffer, don’t you?”

Damian falters suddenly, looking frustrated and slightly confused. “You _imbecile_, Drake—“

Tim snaps, and he’s got his hands clenched tightly in the lapels of Damian’s suit. He slams the other boy against the wall, his grip tight, pinning him there and eyes filled with fury.

Damian looks up at him with shocked eyes, not expecting the reaction from the older boy but there’s something wild swirling in the blue of Tim’s eyes, flashes of something broken. “_Unhand_ me—“ Damian began with uncertainty but Tim cuts him off.

”I’m trying! Okay? I’m _trying_!” He yells. Damian goes tense in his grip. Tim’s hands are shaking. “Why do you always fucking do this? Because of _you_, I’m stuck here in this fucking hellhole longer than I needed to be. You make no fucking _sense_! You wanted me gone and I’ve _been gone_! I guess even three fucking days a month is too much for you too, huh? That’s why you told Bruce about the name so that we’d fight even more and you wouldn’t even need to feel my presence in Gotham. I should’ve expected that’s what you wanted. _Wish fulfilled_. I’m never fucking coming back here EVER again!” Tim shouts. 

Damian’s eyes are wide and shock is written all over his face. Then it morphs into fury. “Y-You think I care what you do Drake? Go where you please! _Do_ as you please! I could care less! Your presence is _nonexistent_ in my eyes. The only thing you can take credit for is forcing father and Grayson to feel sorry for you. Because that’s all anyone feels for you— sorry. Because you’re _pathetic_! Moping and gloomy over something that isn’t your birthright!” Damian blurts in a fit of anger, and he feels like he wants to take the words back as soon as they leave his mouth. Because yes, they were sentiments he felt before. But this isn’t how he feels anymore. So... _Why was he saying this!?_

Tim’s grip tightens and the lump in his throat grows. “Keep your fucking dad and keep your fucking brother! Keep Robin and keep the company for all I fucking care. They were never mine anyway, right? You already have it all so it must be the company you’re still coming after me for. Right?” Tim’s voice chokes, and his eyes look crazy. “Will you finally leave me alone? Fine. It’s yours. You think I _wanted_ it? I wouldn’t have fucking had it in the first place if it wasn’t for your _grandfather_!” 

Damian froze. “What?”

Tim doesn’t pay attention to him though, too caught up in ending this with Damian. “All I fucking wanted was a moment, a _second_ to just breathe. But you’ll never let me do that. Never. Not as long as _Bruce_ is still connected to me. None of you will.” He spits with venom, and an uncomfortable weight grows in Damian. “Fuck you. And fuck your brother and fuck your dad. First thing tomorrow I’m signing papers off to appoint Bruce back because I can’t do this anymore. Jason’s cases, Bruce’s company, Dick’s fakery, and your voice in my fucking head every single fucking day— I can’t do it anymore. So fuck you. And fuck your family. Because it was never mine no matter how much they pretended to make it seem like it was.”

Damian doesn’t know what to say, and a dark grin grows on Tim’s face, his eyes hollow. “I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for you, they’d be dragging me on as a fool for years and years. Thanks Damian. You know, you might’ve made my life a living hell but at least you were honest about it.” 

Tim doesn’t say anything after that and simply stares hard down at Damian who can only stare dumbly back up at him. His chest is heaving and there’s a flash of relief in his eyes, as if this was something he had been holding in for years, bottled up until it just couldn’t stay down anymore. 

Damian takes in the dark bags that pop out from the make up Tim had tried smudging on. His cheeks are hollow and he looks far too thin and pale, as if he was sick. His hair was long and through their argument had fallen into his eyes that were an empty blue. Damian hadn’t noticed until now, but Tim’s been expressionless ever since Bruce came back. He was a shell of a man, with nothing else left inside.

It hits Damian all at once, and— _Oh God, what has he done?_

Damian swallows, throat dry. “Drake—“

”What the hell are you two doing?” Bruce’s gruff voice cuts in with an angry growl. “Tim— let go of Damian. Now.” 

Tim instantly releases his hold on Damian’s collar. Damian stares at Tim deeply, a whirlwind of emotions flowing through him.

”You with me. Now.”

Bruce grabs Tim’s arm and drags him back into the bathroom, slamming the door thunderously loud behind them. 

Dick walks over to Damian with concern shining in his eyes. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Damian can’t answer the older man. 

He can hear Bruce yelling at Tim through the thick door, and although it’s slightly muffled he can hear the pair.

“At a fucking charity event of all places, Tim!”

”I thought you were smarter than that.”

”You’re the older one. Why can’t you act like it?”

”How could you do that to Damian?”

Damian clenches his fists. “No... It’s my fault.”

Dick frowns down at him. “It’s alright, Dami—“

”IT’S NOT!” Damian shouts. “Father is accusing Drake of doing the things that _I_ had done to provoke him. It’s my fault.”

Dick opens his mouth to reply, but there’s silence on the other side of the door. He hears Tim’s quiet, “I understand” before the door is being pulled open and Bruce is walking out with a calmer expression despite his eyes that scream fury. 

“Father—“ Damian began but Bruce glares down at him. “Not now, Damian. I’ll deal with both of you more thoroughly at home. Right now, I’ve got a speech to give. Let’s go.” He hissed.

Damian looks back to the closet bathroom. “But, Drake—“

”Tim needs a minute to think about what he’s done. He’ll come after.”

Damian scowls, but follows his father after a hesitant look back at the bathroom.

Tim listens to them leave, relaxing when the footsteps died out. His back slides down the door of the bathroom until he collapses to the floor, bringing his knees up and hugging them close to his chest. Tears of fury and frustration start to well up in his eyes, and he tries to breathe them back in. _No. Not here. Not now. All you have to do is survive the night._

He calms his breath, pulling out his phone with shaky hands and dialing. 

The phone rings for a while before it’s answered by a warm voice. “Hello?”

”Hey, Conner.” Tim swallows down the shake in his voice. “Tim! What’s up, man?” Conner’s voice brightens significantly. Tim can hear Bart screaming in the background about some video game and Cassie yelling at him to shut up. “Nothing really. How about you?”

”We’re just chillin’ mostly. Everyone’s getting ready to head off back home for the week. Lucky you, getting two weeks with the bats.” Conner laughs. Tim clenches a hand around his clothed knee. “Yeah. Lucky.”

Conner pauses. “Hey, Tim. You okay?” His voice softens. Tim leans his head back against the door tiredly, feeling a small smile grow on his face. “Of course I’m okay, Conner. I was just... missing you guys.” 

Conner’s voice relaxes after that. “We miss you too, bud! But we’ll see you in a week. How’s the Big Bat? And Dick?”

Tim stares darkly up at the ceiling. “They’re good. They’ve always been good.”

”Gar hold on— Hey Timmers, I gotta go. Call me tomorrow, okay?”

Tim smiles, already feeling better. He couldn’t wait to get back to Titans Tower. “Of course, Kon. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Conner laughs. “Why would I want to? See you later man? Promise to call too. Don’t forget.”

”Yeah. I promise.” 

The line cuts, and Tim slowly pulls the phone away with a sigh.

He gathers himself, straightening his suit and fixing his hair before he walks out of the bathroom and down the hall.

Once again, Tim has fucked up. Bruce was right. He shouldn’t have let Damian’s words get to him or blurted all that stuff out to the kid. As much as he didn’t like Damian, the demon brat didn’t need his extra baggage dumped on him like that. Plus, who knows what type of blackmailing Damian would do with all the stuff Tim told him. 

Tim sighed, walking out towards the large patio. Looking down towards the left where the stairs ended on the grass of the garden, he saw both Dick and Damian standing next to Bruce as he smiled and gave his speech regarding the meta teens issue. 

They were the perfect two. The incorruptible Dick Grayson and the blood son, Damian Al-Ghul Wayne. The two Bruce would never turn his back on. It hits Tim hard suddenly—

This must’ve been how Jason felt coming back to seeing him there by Bruce’s side.

He really had no place between any of them.

He was the one Bruce didn’t want. He was the one who had to force Bruce to take him.

Tim looked away with heavy eyes. Regardless of his misplacement, people were expecting Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne to stand by Bruce’s side.

And that was the only reason he stood here right now.

Something flashy in the corner of his eye suddenly breaks his chain of thought, and Tim looks up towards the buildings across the garden with a squint.

Just barely, laying on the top of the lowest building is a man. There’s a gun in his hand. A sniper rifle. It’s pointed right towards— 

Tim’s blood runs cold.

Damian. It’s pointed right at _Damian_.

Tim feels his senses go numb. If he hadn’t seen the glare of the glass of the sniper against the harsh stage lights, he wouldn’t haven been able to notice.

He doesn’t even think at that point. As he reaches up and taps into the com in his ear. “Jason!”

”Tim?” Barbara’s shocked voice cuts in. “Is that really you? I haven’t heard from your comms since—“

”Jason! Give me Jason! Now, O!” Tim hissed, rushing as fast as possible.

Barbara doesn’t question it as she connects him to Jason.

”Red? You’re using the bat comms? I’m surprised.” Jason muses. 

Tim didn’t even mean to connect into the bat comms, but that wasn’t what was on his mind right now. “Jason! How far are you from city hall!?”

Jason pauses. “Like, 10 minutes? Red, you gotta stop using my name-name.”

“Too long— that’s _too long_.” Tim glances back at the rooftop to see the man loading his gun before focusing it on Damian’s still form. Tim pushes himself faster down the last few steps, trying to think what he should do. Jason wasn’t going to make it in time. There’s no way Tim would make it to that building before this man shot Damian. 

He had no idea what to fucking do.

Tim stops, freezing.

Oh.

Yes he does.

”Jason. The paper office across the road from the backyard of City Hall— that’s where he is.” Tim whispered. 

“Timbo, do I look like a fucking mind reader? The hell are you talking about?”

”The shooter. He’s trying to shoot Damian, but don’t worry. It’ll be okay. You just need to get here and grab him before he takes off.”

Jason’s breath hitches. “_What_?”

“Jason there’s no fucking time. Closest building across the street from the back garden of city hall. And— let my team know that I’m sorry for breaking my promise.”

He can hear from the grunts and thumping footsteps that Jason is running now. “Wha— What? What the _fuck_ are you about to do Red?” Jason hissed.

“Look, I’m sorry if I was ever an asshole. I wasn’t trying to be.”

”Tim!?“

Tim can’t think about Jason now, his heart is pounding in his ear that all the other sound is deafening and he barely has time to run on the makeshift podium as Bruce turns shocked eyes towards Tim. 

He can’t even think about Bruce right now.

Because Damian. All that mattered was _Damian_ right now.

Poor Damian didn’t see what was coming for him apparently because he was just as shocked to see Tim running towards him and grabbing him in a tight embrace. 

Then the echo of the gunshot was heard.

All the sound flooded back into Tim as he felt the bullet pierce straight and deep into his chest, pain exploding throughout his entire body. 

Damian shoved him off, stumbling to the floor in a heap. “What in the _hell_ are you doing, Drake—“ He began to hiss until he looks up and sees Tim clutching his chest with trembling hands, blood seeping through and dripping to the floor. 

Damian froze. Everything about him— his face, his body, his senses. Everything became numb. “...Drake...?”

Tim falls to his knees, one hand landing on the floor while the other presses against the wound to his chest. Damian can see blood starting to rise from Tim’s mouth, the inner parts of his lips becoming a deep red.

”Y-You... Ok-Okay?” Tim asks weakly, his eyes shiny with tears.

Damian nods mutely, his expression one of frozen shock.

Tim smiles slightly, as much as he can manage. “Good.”

Then he falls over.

Damian is quickly over him then, laying him onto his side with injury down, pressing firm, yet shaky hands against the wound on his chest.

Tim feels everything start to fade around him, and he wonders if he imagines Damian screaming his actual name or the look of sheer terror on the kid’s face. 

_Well, it looks like surviving the night was a big fail_, he thinks before everything goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

There always used to be something hateful and bitter burning in Jason whenever he saw Tim Drake. It gnawed at every inch of his skin, infected his bloodstream with poison. A poison filled with anger and hatred. _So much hatred_.

At that time, Jason didn’t even know who Tim was personally. He was just _there_. The one who had replaced him, the one who took everything away from him. But, he didn’t. Tim didn’t take anything from him. But Jason hated. He hated Tim. Probably couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. It had nothing to do with Tim and everything to do with the fact that just his mere presence seemed to be a mock of what he had— of what he _could’ve_ had.

Jason always hated Dick for being the one Bruce set his standards to. But he hated Tim more for being the only one who lived up to those standards. Because Dick was perfect, and Tim got the closest to perfect despite all of Jason’s efforts for those first handful of years in his life. It was easier to hate Tim more.

He was fueled by a certain rage— one that overtook his entire mind and body. He stalked, found out who Tim was and what he did, who he hanged out with. The kid wasn’t bad, but he was unbelievably naive. For that, he had to pay. 

Jason was wrong for that. _Very_ wrong. Coming back to life hadn’t really set his mind in the right place. It took him a while to learn how to control that bitter hatred. 

By that time, the damage was already done.

Despite all of that, Tim somehow managed to come out as the one from the family Jason was _closest_ to. He’s not really sure how it happened. Tim would pop up on his side of Gotham and they’d run into each other. Then they were working on cases together and it just became _natural_ to come to Tim.

But Tim was damaged. And Jason could see damaged miles away. He doesn’t know what happened when Tim went after Bruce when everyone thought he was dead. They were never close at that time— Jason still couldn’t stand the kid. If a batarang to the chest didn’t show Jason’s disdain for the third robin, he didn’t know what did. (He still feels so fucking bad for that)

Jason had heard it from Dick— Tim had lost himself in his grief and had gone on an impossible mission to bring a man back from the dead and none of them could stop him no matter how much they tried. They hadn’t seen him for months after that. What shocked Jason the most was Damian, who stood proudly in the Robin mantle. _Tim’s_ Robin mantle.

He asked Dick, and Dick just shrugged but Jason saw that flash of guilt and shame in his eyes and he _knew_. Dick had taken something precious away from Tim. Jason may have hated the kid, but that hate lightened a bit after that.

Then Tim slapped them all in the face because he was back and Bruce was _with_ him. They’d both walked through the front doors of the mansion and everything was a mess of tears and hugs.

But by the time everyone looked passed Bruce, Tim was gone.

That’s when Bruce questioned Dick about the Robin switch and Dick fessed up about giving Robin to Damian to help connect him to the world and learn emotions and shit. Of course Bruce gave the most Batman response possible— _You were right but the way you went about it with Tim was wrong._

As if that fucking helps.

Jason tried not to walk out on all of them when that conversation went by _so damn casually_. Then Bruce tried to track Tim but it’s like the kid had walked off the face of the planet. His tracker was found destroyed and thrown in a fire pit. Dick and Jason kept trying to tell Bruce to check Titans Tower but they all knew he wasn’t there. Now Jason was getting agitated. Because he didn’t give a fuck about Tim and yet he seemed to be the only one was actively trying to find out where the little fucker ran off to.

It’s not that Jason _cared_, but he just wanted to make sure. So when Bruce said that they should give Tim his space for a while to let him come back on his own, Jason had walked out of the mansion with the slam of the door. Because Bruce didn’t get it. Tim wasn’t _going_ to come back to him.

That’s when Jason decided _he’d_ find Tim.

It wasn’t that hard. He did what Bruce wouldn’t do— went down to Titans Tower and asked Tim’s San Francisco buddies if they’ve seen the sleep deprived teen. They weren’t too happy to see him considering the last time Jason stopped by, he attacked everyone including Tim. But when Jason asked where Tim was, they had looked confused.

He was in Paris working on some Wayne Enterprises tech that would take him a couple months to complete. The Superboy had been up Jason’s ass then, asking what was wrong and how come Jason didn’t know about this. Jason covered up for Tim, nonchalantly stating that the little bird had forgotten to mention it to him before leaving. 

Tim had lied to the Titans. Jason didn’t really know how to feel about it, but he guessed as long as Tim was still talking to the Titans then it shouldn’t be his problem.

Besides, he’d tried to kill the boy more than enough times, he should be the last person to care about Tim Drake.

But when the people who were _supposed_ to care for him weren’t, he should’ve stepped in.

Then, almost four whole months after Bruce’s return, Tim had reappeared in Gotham. He only ever patrolled on Jason’s side of Gotham and Jason couldn’t help but notice how emotionless Tim had become. His words quiet and monotone. Whenever they met without the cowl, all Jason could see was the hollowness and emptiness of his eyes. It was at that point that Jason realized he didn’t hate Tim anymore. 

The more they worked together, the worse he felt about what was happening with Tim— even if he didn’t _exactly_ know what had happened to the kid.

By now, Jason would just make excuses to come see for himself how Tim was holding up. The only thing Tim has gotten better at was hiding how bad he’s been feeling for the past two years. 

  
So Jason always lied, said he needed help on something or needed Tim’s opinion about cases so that he could at least offer comfort by his presence. Tim had slowly warmed up to him, and although he was still empty, he was comfortable and Jason figured that’s the best he could get out of him. Because Tim’s main problem wasn’t with Jason anymore, so Jason couldn’t be the solution to it.

That had to be the rest of the family, who for some reason, didn’t know it. 

  
  
Bruce walked around the cave for years saying Tim would come to him when he was comfortable and Tim never came. And somehow, Bruce let that _slide_. It just gave Jason another reason to hate the guy.

Jason landed on the roof with heavy feet just as the gunshot had rung in the air, and he could hear loud screams from across the street. Tim’s comm had gone static.

_Oh fuck no_. 

  
His fists clenched and he was already running towards the man who stood up and was making a break for the fire exit. He grabs him by his hair and flips him over roughly into the cement away from the ladder as the man lets out a pained yelp.

”WHO THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SHOOT!?” Jason practically roars, picking the man up by his throat and slamming him into the brick wall. The man lets out a choked gasp, fear growing in his eyes. This isn’t someone Jason has come across before, so either this guy has got some problems, maybe a personal vendetta, or he’s been hired by someone else.

“I h-had to,” the man chokes out. “_Bruce Wayne_,” he sneers the name, “is funding these horrifying monsters that our children are turning into and having them _accept_ their demonic evils instead of putting that money into finding a cure or something to destroy these monsters with powers.”

”So you shoot the kid?” Jason growls, pushing the man’s head further into the wall as he felt his fury grow ten fold.

”He's funding the Justice League taking away our children, so I decided to take one of his.” He sneers. “I would’ve gotten that blood brat too if that bastard adopted orphan hadn’t gotten in the way.”

Jason doesn’t hesitate in pulling one of his pistols out when he hears those words, shoving the muzzle right under the man’s jaw as roughly as he could. The fear returned in his eyes. “I’d be very careful with your words right now.” He says darkly. “You’re lucky the big bat and I have a deal.”

”P-Please. I have a family.” The man begged and a sinister, cruel grin grows on Jason’s face. “Funny. So do I.”

Then he points the gun lower where he knows there aren’t any important organs or arteries and shoots.

-

Jason slammed the door to the mansion open, already having informed the cops of where he’d left the piece of shit tied up and passed out from the beating Jason had given him. 

There was no one around the first floor, but Jason knew exactly where everyone was and made his way straight towards the entrance to the cave, too pissed and antsy to take the elevator and instead stomping down the stairs.

If Tim manages to survive this, Jason was going to kill him with his own hands for real this time. 

  
Down in the cave was worse— _much_ worse. Bruce was sitting in his chair at the computer, his head lowered and held in his hands. Dick was pacing back and forth at the top where the mantles were hung. Alfred was in the medical room with Leslie, helping the older woman with Tim who Jason could see was unconscious and laying still on a operating table in the medical bay.

Damian was...

Standing. 

Jason watches the current robin carefully. His face is blank, eyes unfocused and staring straight into the viewing window of Tim with a limp stance. There was dried blood all over his hands and arms, splattered over his white button up, his blazer and tie still on as if he’s been standing there the minute they got back.

From the looks of it, he probably has been.

”Hey, demon brat.” Jason’s voice cracks slightly and clears his throat. “Maybe, uh, wanna get that shit washed off.”

Damian doesn’t acknowledge him, doesn’t even seem to have heard a word Jason had said. 

“Hey Dick!” Jason practically shouts, turning to look up at the eldest with pissed eyes. “Wanna come down here and play big bro now when he actually fucking _needs_ it? Or do you only do it when it’s completely unnecessary and ignore it when it _is_ necessary?”

Dick seems to snap out of his daze from where he was staring at one of Tim’s old design Robin mantles Bruce has framed in glass. As if it was a reward. Jason hates seeing his costume in that damn glass. Bruce being proud of something Jason wasn’t proud of. 

“Shut the hell up Jason,” Dick hissed, gripping the metal railing tightly. “_None_ of us need this right now.”

”Come down here and get _Tim’s blood_ off of Damian.” Jason hisses back and Dick flinches, his hostile expression morphing into one of despair. Dick walks down the steps and over to Damian carefully, wincing when he saw Tim laying motionless. He puts a hand on the youngest boy’s shoulder. “Hey Dami,” he begins softly, gently pulling him away from the window and towards the sink. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Damian let’s Dick drag him away like a rag doll, his steps uncoordinated and unfocused.

Dick runs a towel under the warm water, reaching over and gently wiping some of the specks of blood that had landed on Damian’s face off. 

“Can you wash your hands for me kiddo?”

Damian doesn’t respond, simply reaching over and letting his hands run under the water as red starts to fill the sink. Dick scrubs his hands with soap, trying to get as much dried blood off the kid as possible.

”Damian, you should really go take a shower. It’s soaked through your shirt.” Dick mutters, peeling Damian’s blazer off and taking the tie off. “Can you please go take a shower? Do you want me to help you?”

Damian shakes his head half heartedly and turns to go up the stairs. 

Once Jason is sure the kid is out of hearing range, he explodes. “Well congrats on getting another fucking kid killed Bruce!” 

“Jason, seriously!” Dick says weakly but Jason won’t give it to them. Of course Tim getting shot wasn’t Bruce’s fault, but everything else was. And if Tim wasn’t going to say anything about it, then Jason would.

“Tim isn’t dead, Jason.” Bruce snarls, finally looking up from where he was slouched over.

”Maybe not physically. Maybe not _yet_. But mentally, that kid has been dead for years.” Jason snarled.

Bruce looks away but Jason won’t allow it. “Don’t you dare. Don’t turn your back on this. I told you years ago not to fucking let Tim go.”

“Last I recall, you’re the only one in this room who’s actually tried to kill Tim and almost succeed.” Bruce says sarcastically.

”Low fucking blow, old man. Do you think I’m stupid? Because last _I_ recall, _I’m_ the one Tim went to for the past two years. Not you. And _definitely_ not you.” Jason pointed to Dick who’s face morphs into anger. “You’ve been talking to Tim for _years_!? And you didn’t say anything!? What the hell Jason!” Dick shouts.

Jason turns to him sharply. “No, I didn’t say anything. And no, I don’t regret it. Because _you_ guys were the ones that wanted to leave him alone and wait for him to come crawling to you when he damn well wasn’t going to.”

”You don't understand—“ Bruce began, but Jason cuts him off by stepping into the older man’s space, shoving a hard finger in his chest. “No _you’re_ the one one who doesn’t _understand_,” He snarled. “You _never_ understood. Tim isn’t like you. He doesn’t need his space to fix his mentality, he needed _you_ and you weren’t there.”

An ashamed gleam passed through Bruce’s eyes. It makes Jason pleased to see something out of Bruce that wasn’t just a blame game. “Why didn’t you go to San Francisco and ask his friends where he was if you cared so much? Huh?” Jason sneers. “It’s not that you didn’t know, it’s that you didn’t _want_ to know. Because you know that both of you are the reason he’s like this. And Damian, and... me.” Jason swallows heavily. “You felt guilty and thought he’d get over it and come back at some point, but he never did, did he?”

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s been eating away at you, hasn’t it? Knowing he never came back? Because I knew. I knew where he went those first few months. I’ve been working with Tim the past two years and didn’t tell any of you because he didn’t want to see any of you. Is that enough of a reason for you?” Jason turned to Dick who’s frozen in his spot. 

  
  
“You didn’t go to San Francisco because you thought Tim needed space. But what you always forget to realize is that none of us are fucking like you. We don’t want to wallow away by ourselves for the rest of our lives. We needed you— _he_ needed you. He needed you to walk into that fucking Tower and ask him what’s wrong. But you thought he need _space_.” Jason laughs bitterly. “And you really expect him to be okay after two years of complete silence?”

“I tried,” Dick suddenly blurts in fury. Jason grabs him by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you fucking start with me, Dick. All you _tried_ to do was act like everything was okay— that Tim would be okay after everything you did to him. Newsflash _big brother_, just because he said he’d be fine, doesn’t actually mean he is.”

Dick looks like he’s about to reply, but suddenly the door to the medical bay is slowly opened and all three turn quickly towards it.

Leslie steps out looking tired. “He’s... okay. For now, at least. The bullet is out.”

A relieved sigh resounds throughout the cave and Dick goes slack in Jason’s hands, Jason letting him go.

“Thank god,” Dick mutters, looking relieved. 

Leslie suddenly turns serious very quickly though. “But... there’s something I need to talk to you all about. About Tim.”

”What’s wrong?” Bruce straightens, turning towards her.

Leslie seems conflicted for a moment. “I... think it’d be best if I just showed you.”

They followed her through into the observation room, and on the screen were X-Rays of the bullet that was lodged way to close to a vital organ.

”The bullet dug in deep and it had grazed his heart which gave me a fright and made him lose some blood. But thanks to the supply we had, the extraction went smoothly. That’s not what the main concern is, however.” She clicks the keyboard and the X-Ray moves to a full body view. 

  
Jason was confused for a moment, before his body tensed up in icy shock.

The utility belt Bruce was holding slipped out of his fingers, his face frozen.

”I don’t get it.” Dick frowned.

”Where the _fuck_ is his spleen?” Jason snarled.

Leslie gave them all a judgmental look. “That’s what I was wondering too, considering _missing_ _spleen_ wasn’t listed in Tim’s files.” 

She turns to Bruce. “Did you know about this?”

Bruce can’t seem to answer, staring at where the organ was missing. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” She sounds disappointed. “Well, this is a problem. If the bullet had lodged itself into his heart, there’d be no way in saving him with the loss of blood and lack of the spleen to help filter his immune system. He’d be dead within minutes.”

“Oh my god,” Dick whispers in horror.

”I didn’t know about this when performing the bullet extraction. He... lost a lot of blood and you should be lucky there were blood bags here or he would _not_ make it. But this missing spleen is a problem, Bruce. His immune system is weak. He survived the bullet but if he even gets a simple cold on top of this, there’s a good chance he’s already dead. It wouldn’t have been as big of a deal if the bullet didn’t land where it did. It grazed the heart and a small part of the lung too. You should be incredibly grateful it didn’t embed itself into his heart or you’d already be planning a funeral right now.” 

Her words are harsh. _Incredibly_ harsh. But Jason knows why. Leslie doesn’t approve of what Bruce is doing, especially when it comes to Robins. And she’s right. Tim was so close to _dying_ tonight. They all needed to realize it.

All of a sudden, Bruce has both Jason and Dick grabbed by the arm and dragging them out of the viewing room. Just then, Damian comes walking down the stairs quietly.

Bruce towers over both his sons with a heavy glare. “What the _hell_ happened while I was gone!?”

Jason and Dick shared a look. 

“I don’t—“

”Tell me what happened to Tim’s missing spleen first of all!” Bruce raises his voice and Dick visibly flinched. 

“I don’t know how he lost it!” Jason snapped. “Neither do I,” Dick admits with a heavy voice, his eyes tired. 

Bruce clenches his fists. “Well it didn’t fucking happen while he was Robin so it happened after! And _after_ was with you!” Bruce turns to Dick.

”Listen old man, Dick fucked up a _lot_, but he didn’t know about the spleen. None of us did.” Jason steps up in front of Dick, shielding him slightly. 

“Dick, what the hell did you do to him while I was gone?” Bruce whispers, his heartbreak finally showing in his voice and face as the anger dissipated. 

Tears finally started to burst out of Dick’s eyes, and he broke. “So now everything is _my_ fault!? When you disappeared off the face of the fucking _planet_ and everyone jumped onto me to be _you_ but I’m NOT YOU! But I still came and did my fucking best because what other choice did I have!? You’re gonna blame me for Tim losing his spleen when I had no fucking clue about it!?”

“Your job was to make sure you _did_ know about the things that happened to Robin. That’s your job as Batman—“

”I was too busy looking after your psycho assassin son!” Dick shouts. 

Silence.

Suddenly Damian is stepping around them all, glancing at everyone but Dick.

”Drake is resting.” Is all he says. It’s the only thing he’s said in the past 7 hours. 

Dick looks like he wants to scream then, running a hand through his hair and eyes widening. “Wait, Damian. I didn’t mean it like tha—“

”Drake is resting.” Damian repeats. “Instead of trying to find who is at fault, I think we should let him rest.”

Dick looks away, eyes bright red and lips pulled in a grim line. 

“Damian, are you oka—“ Bruce began but Damian cuts him off. “Drake. Is. _Resting_. Dr-Drake _never_ rests. Just let him _rest_. Please. He just needs to r-rest—“ Damian chokes out, and suddenly tears burst out of his eyes.

Bruce doesn’t even hesitate then before he’s pulling Damian into a tight hug. “It’s all my fault.” Damian sobbed. 

Jason looks away with a tight throat.

Dick’s hands cup his face tightly, shoulders slumping.

”It’s not.” Bruce firms, his voice soft and his eyes filled with sorrow. “This isn’t your fault, Damian. This is my fault.”

”And mine,” Dick slides to the floor, hiding his head into his knees as he curls up, body shaking slightly.

”And mine.” Jason grips the table, lowering his head with eyes squeezed tightly shut. “It’s all our faults.” 

  
  
The only thing heard in the cave then was Damian’s sobs and Dick’s soft crying.

-

“I tried to stop him,” Dick said weakly, his eyes glued to the table. Bruce had calmed down a lot since they had found out about the spleen and had done what he should’ve done years ago. Find out _exactly_ what happened while he was gone. “He just— He was _so sure_ you were alive.”

Jason leans against the counter as he listens, back faced to them.

“Who went with him? If you were here in Gotham? Did you send Cass? Because he was alone when he found me.” Bruce asks calmly, his voice tired.

Dick rubs his puffy eyes. “I... I didn’t send anyone with him.” The shame is evident in Dick’s voice and Jason rubs his forehead with frustration. 

“Were you in contact with him at all while he was gone those months?”

Dick’s silence is enough of an answer to Bruce.

“Dick... how did Damian become Robin exactly?” 

This causes Dick explode. “I took it away! Okay!? _I took it away from Tim and gave it to Damian_. Because I’m fucking _weak_, Bruce. I didn’t know how to handle Damian so I threw Tim away thinking he’d be fine and focused all my attention on Damian not even realizing I was sending my little brother to his grave.” Dick spits, disgusted with himself.

“It’s alright Dick, no one is blaming you—“ Bruce began but his eldest cuts him off instantly.

”Tim does. Tim blames me. That’s why he never answers my calls or replies to my texts. That’s why he never comes home and that’s why he hasn’t spoken a single word to me in two years. It’s why he can’t even fucking look at me. He can’t stand the _sight_ of me, Bruce.” Dick chokes. “A-And I’ve been trying so hard to hold it together but it’s not okay. _Nothing_ is okay.”

”Tim doesn’t need you to hold it together, Dick.” Jason cuts in instantly. “He needed you to apologize. Even if he doesn’t realize it.” Jason’s eyes met Bruce’s and he looks away just as quick. “He just needed you to be there when you weren’t.” He mutters. 

Bruce’s head hung low.

“We need to find out what happened to Tim.” He mutters, running a hand down his face. Jason leaned his head tiredly against the wall.

”The only person who knows that is laying unconscious on a bed, barely alive.” Dick says bitterly. 

Jason furrowed his brows. _Wait..._

_”Where do I take you!? Come on, Timbers. Let me take you to the cave. Bruce can—“_

_”No,” Tim pushed against Jason’s chest weakly, one hand pressed against the wound in his abdomen. Jason doesn’t relent his grip on Tim’s waist, tightening it instead at the younger boy’s resistance. _   
  


_“Tim, I don’t have the tools to fix this up. And I think you’re getting worse than what it should be for some reason. There’s no where else to go.” Jason hisses. Tim looks conflicted for a moment. “T-Tam. Take me to Tam.”_

_”Your secretary?” Jason snorts. “Did you get hit upside the head?”_

_Tim throws him a look. “No. She knows how to fix this. I’ve gone to her before— She’s the one who usually patches me up.”_

_Jason stares hard down at his little brother. “The cave is the best place—“_

_”You can’t.” Tim all but snarled, groaning and doubling over in pain. Jason winced. “Okay, okay... We'll go to Tam. How does she even know about you?”_

_Tim looks disgruntled, as if he doesn’t want to answer. He takes some time for consideration before choosing his words carefully. “She... She helped me out a little in trying to help find Bruce. That’s all.”_

_Jason isn’t convinced. “That’s all you’re gonna give me?”_

_Tim gives him a pained grin. “That’s all you’re gonna get.”_

”Tam.” Jason whispers.

”What was that?” Bruce looks over to Jason. Jason straightens, turning to them both. “Tim... mentioned something about Tam helping him find you. She was the only one with him during some time of those months he went missing. It might not be much, but it’s a start.” Jason shrugged.

Bruce instantly stood. “That’s more than enough.”

Alfred walks in then. “No one is going anywhere.”

Bruce glares at the old man. “Alfred—“

”No. Everyone is going to eat some dinner and have a minimum of ten hours rest before doing anything else regarding this situation.” Alfred states calmly, but his voice is hiding a brewing storm of anger. 

  
Knowing there’s be no fighting this, Jason pulled a chair back and sat down, holding his head in his hand. “What’re we having?” He asks softly. 

Alfred’s posture relaxes, but his eyes are brimming with sorrow. “Tofu shawarma.”

Jason gives him a disgusted look. “Why the fuck would anyone ever put tofu in shawarma—“

“I hoped it would lighten Master Damian’s spirits.”

”Where is Damian?” Dick asks. Alfred looks over at the bookcase. “He has been by Master Timothy’s side in the medical bay all day.”

”Poor Dami,” Dick cups his face. Jason sighs, standing. “I’ll go get Demon Brat.”

Dick doesn’t reply, allowing Jason to go down to the cave.

Jason hadn’t realized how tired he really was until he started climbing down the stairs. Everything that’s happened, everything that’s _happening_— he never realized just how draining it was until it hit him full force.

He stops in front of the window. Damian is sitting in the chair by Tim’s bed, his knees drawn up to rest his chin on top of. There’s still redness and puffiness in his eyes but his tears have been long drained from him.

Jason stares.

There’s something super vulnerable and raw about Damian right now. It’s like Tim’s injury has snapped him into a sea of emotions that he didn’t know how to handle. Jason knows now that Damian being Robin was necessary— because he doesn’t think Damian would be this way now if it wasn’t for the time he spent with Dick.   
  


Dick fucked up. Everyone knows that. And yet, the one thing he’d gotten completely right is Damian. Jason remembers meeting the kid like the back of his hand— remembers Damian attacking him, like he’d done with practically every family member. And as amusing as it was to talk about now, in all seriousness the severity of Damian’s hostility was something Jason had never seen in his life. Dick worked his _ass_ off with the kid, and Damian was finally starting to _understand_ people. Finally starting to understand _himself_.

No one could take that away from Dick.

Jason slowly walked towards the door, pushing his thumb onto the keypad before the doors opened and he walked in.

  
  
“Damian. Alfred made tofu shawarma. Special for you vegetarian brat.” Jason tells him.

Damian looks away from Tim and over to Jason. “I’m not hungry.”

Jason crosses his arms, unimpressed. “And I don’t care. Go upstairs and eat something and then get some damn sleep already. You’re starting to have bags worse than Tim— and that says something.”

The joke was not taken lightly, and Damian visibly flinched. Jason winced. “Too soon?”

”You are an imbecile, Todd.” Damian sighs, and Jason smiles because finally Damian’s starting to sound a little more like his usual self.

”Go up and eat. Otherwise you’re gonna make Alfred sad for working so hard on making your favorite food for nothing.”

Damian hesitated, throwing a glance at Tim again and that’s when Jason understood. “It’s okay. I’ll watch him for you until you’re done.”

Damian scowls, a small flush growing on his cheeks. “That’s not— I wasn’t,” he stammers and Jason chuckles. “Just go, demon.”

Damian glares at him, but walks out the room anyway.

Jason could get used to teasing Damian about his new found care for Tim.

Jason takes Damian’s spot in the chair, pulling it closer to the bed. He rests his elbows on the bed, holding his chin in his hand as he peered down at Tim’s calm face.

The dark circles under Tim’s eyes had seem to brighten a bit from the rest he’d been getting, but the rest of his skin seemed paler than usual. His hair had gone back to its usual ways, with the bangs gently caressing his cheeks. The strands seemed notably shorter than Jason remembered. 

”Got a haircut, huh?” Jason mutters to the unconscious boy. “It suits you.” Of course, Tim doesn’t reply.

”I don’t know about you, but that tree you were starting to grow on your head was getting a bit much.” Jason snorts.

No answer.

Jason continued to stare, the constant beeping of Tim’s heart monitor steady and loud in the silent, sterile room.

Slowly, Jason reached over and gripped Tim’s limp hand in his. “You’re cold, Tim.” He whispers, shocked at how weak his own voice had gotten.

  
His gaze sharpens. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know why you decided not to tell me about the spleen, or what happened when you were in France— but I promise you Tim, I’m going to find out. And then I’ll look you in the eyes when I say sorry. For everything.”

Tim’s face is serene, and relaxed. All the lines that are usually in that tense face smoothed out. It’s a look Jason hasn’t seen from Tim since he was Robin, before Jason made his presence known. Jason swallowed. “But you need to wake up, okay?”

Wait, his vision is getting blurry. _Why are you crying, Jason?_

Jason blinks the tears away, trying not to let them spill.

”Please wake up.”

_Why are you crying?_

-

When morning came, they didn’t even have to go to Wayne Enterprises to hunt Tam down and interrogate her.

Because she came to them.

Bruce stared at the monitor where Tam was panically banging her fist on the door.

”Fuck me raw,” Jason mused. Bruce throws him a glare.

Jason held his hands up in compliance.

”Alfred, let her in.” Bruce ordered, standing up and walking towards the hall with Jason and Dick in tow.

Damian was down in the medical bay again.

Jason really worried about that kid’s mental state.

As soon as Alfred had opened the door, the secretary stormed right on in. “Where is he?”

”How did you—“ 

“It’s all over the news. And yes, I know about the capes and stuff. Now where’s Tim?”

Bruce sighed. “He’s stable, but unconscious. And we need to talk to you.”

She throws Bruce a dark glare. “Not until I see Tim.”

Bruce glared back, and both stood their ground for a while. Jason and Dick shared a look.

Finally, Bruce breaks and turns away with a sigh. “Follow me.”

They go down to the cave and into the medical bay. Damian, seeing Tam walk in, suddenly draws out a batarang. “What is Fox’s daughter doing here?” He hissed, standing over Tim’s body protectively.

”Damian, stand down.” Bruce says simply. “Tam knows. And she’s the one who helped Tim find me. Which, thank you.” Bruce says honestly.

Tam glares at him. “I don’t need your thanks.” She shoved through Jason and Dick to make her way over the Tim.

Damian tensed, grip tightening on his weapon and Dick took a careful step forward. But Tam grabs Tim’s hand in hers tightly, looking down at him with worry and Damian relaxes, pulling back.

”God, Tim.” She whispers. “How bad was it?”

”Bullet grazed both the lung and heart and he lost a lot of blood. The missing spleen didn’t help,” Bruce states and Tam visibly flinches at the last part which Bruce takes notice on. “Which is what we wanted to talk to you about.”

Tam looks to them. “I don’t know anything about that.” She says curtly, and they all know she’s lying.

”Nice try Fox, but how dare you think that your lies would be something we’d easily succumb to—“ Damian began angrily and Dick put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Damian.”

”Look, we messed up. Badly. We all know that. But we’re trying to fix it— fix what we’ve done. And we can’t do that if we don’t know what happened. And we can’t help Tim if we don’t know the story— the _full_ story.” Dick reasons. 

  
  
Tam grits her teeth. “He made me promise not to tell any of you.”

Jason’s hands tightened into fists. “And now he’s unconscious and slowly dying. Regardless of whatever promises we’ve all made, they need to be broken. Because he’s not getting better and we can’t let him die.”

Tam considers Jason’s words carefully, before she sighs. “There’s... a lot. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”

”We’ve got time.” Bruce sat down silently and Dick follows pursuit. Jason stays leaning against the wall across Tim’s bed.

Tam sighed, and then she spills. “When Tim left, my father sent me after him. He was worried, and we needed him back so I promised dad that I wouldn’t come back without Tim. Before that, Tim tried really hard to get someone to believe him when he said you were alive. And yet, the more he talked about it, the more everyone thought he was insane. Your boy over here even suggested Arkham.” She spits the last part, glaring heavily at Dick.

Bruce turns to Dick with the most scary glare Jason has ever seen, but Jason was turning to the eldest as well. “You told him to go to fucking _Arkham_?” Jason hisses, taking a step towards Dick.

Dick looks alarmed. “I... I didn’t tell him to _fuck off_ to Arkham! I just suggested that he get some help! All of us thought you were _dead_, Bruce. There was no reason for us to believe you were alive. And Tim lost everyone. I just—“

”Well, I _was_ alive.” Bruce says coldly. “Dick, I’ve let a lot slide with you. I know it wasn’t easy. But regardless of how Tim was acting, he‘s your brother. And you didn’t believe in him because it was easier not to.” 

Dick looks like he wants to cry. “You don’t know how he sounded, Bruce. He had no proof, he was running around trying to bring Conner back to life and then your death broke him. Y-You think it was easy for me? It wasn’t.”

Jason was trying really hard not to stack all the blame on Dick, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. He knows how hard it was for Dick and what he did. But... Did he really think Tim would be _okay_ after all that? Tim didn’t need Dick to run around with him or find clues with him or have Tim be his Robin. He just needed Dick to _believe_ in him. He needed Dick to be what he was with Damian.

And Dick never realized Tim needed that too.

Bruce didn’t say anything as a reply to Dick, turning back to Tam who looks conflicted. “No one believed him, _no one_. So he left. And tried to do it on his own. A lot of people attacked him. He told me about what happened. He was working with a few others he met, and they encountered the Council of Spiders. They attacked, and stabbed him. Some guy named The Widower, I’m pretty sure. All of them died except for Tim and Pru. But they were injured pretty badly.”

Bruce looks like he wants to hit someone— probably himself.

Hell, Jason wanted to hit himself too.

”I was able to find him, eventually. When he somehow managed to come back to the hotel. He was a bloody mess. And, that’s when the League of Assassins found us.” She sneers the name with disdain.

Damian looks away. 

“The League took us, and Ra’s wanted Tim to become their leader or something, threatening to kill us if he didn’t so Tim agreed to work with them. That guy is fucking weird. So Tim worked with the League to defeat the Council since they were having some gang feud or some stupid shit like that, while simultaneously working on destroying the league behind the scenes. Tim... got a lot of injuries fighting the Council of Spiders. There were points where he fought off the entire Council by himself. Twice. He almost didn’t make it out alive both times, but God knows how he managed to come out defeating them the second time.”

Jason really wanted to kill something right now. Preferably Ra’s.

Tam looks back over at Tim, rubbing his hand soothingly. “Once the Council was dealt with, Tim destroyed every single League base worldwide.”

She sighed. “Then Ra’s threatened to destroy Wayne Enterprises. So Tim took up the company under his name with the help of my father to protect it. Ra’s was so furious he stabbed Tim and kicked him out of a window. Somehow Tim managed to survive that too... I’d rather not get into that one. I really don’t know how this kid is still alive.”

Damian stiffened.

Jason turned to look at him.

”I wouldn’t have had it in the first place if it wasn’t for your grandfather.” Damian whispers to himself, turning pale suddenly. 

“What?” Jason stood straighter.   
  


“I wouldn’t have had it in the first place if it wasn’t for your grandfather.” Damian repeated, louder. “That’s what Drake told me during our fight before he got shot. He was talking about how he was protecting the company from Grandfather.” Damian says, face scrunching and fists clenching. 

“Tim told you that?” Dick frowned. Damian hugs himself protectively. “Yes. I— didn’t know what it meant at the time. But now it makes sense. Drake never wanted the company. He took it because if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be here.”

”And I never questioned why he did it.” Bruce mutters, looking pissed at himself. 

Jason _really_ wanted to kill Ra’s. 

“I can’t tell you much. All I can tell you is that, those months with Tim, he’d been through a lot. And it still affects him today. So much. He’s nothing like he used to be. Maybe it was because of what happened during that time, maybe it was because of what happened earlier with all of you. All I know is, it’s been two years, and I’ve never seen him genuinely happy.” Tam tells them, her voice hard. “The only reason I’m telling any of you this, is because he’s badly injured and he can’t take care of himself. Otherwise, I’d _die_ before I’d ever tell you _anything_.” 

Bruce doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Can I ask you... if I came to you two years ago and asked you what happened to Tim, would you tell me?” 

  
  
Tam doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Bruce has never looked more ashamed in himself than at that moment.

Tam regards them all for a moment. “I hope you can fix this. Because I don’t know if you can. I don’t know if it’s too late for that.”

Jason doesn’t know either.

-

When Tim first wakes up, he’s not exactly sure where he is.

All he knows is his throat aches, and there’s a dull ache in his chest. He also knows that breathing is a little difficult. 

He lets out a small cry, and instantly regrets it when he lets in a deep breath and a stabbing pain is felt in his heart. He slows and shallows his breaths. It all comes back to him then— the gala, fighting with Damian, the shooter, the _bullet in his chest_.

_Jesus_.

Seriously, how is he alive after all that shit?

Tim looks around blearily, and freezes when he realizes where he is.

He’s in the medical bay. The _batcave’s_ medical bay. He looks around and goes tense with icy shock upon seeing his x-rays on the screen next to him, showing his missing spleen for everyone to see.

_They know_.

The heart monitor picks up in an erratic beat.

  
  
Bruce is gonna kill him.

Without a second thought, Tim yanks the IV out of his hand, ignoring the searing pain that followed. He pulls all the wires off his body and slowly comes to sit up despite his body screaming in pain.

Pain was a non factor. Pain was a comfort— _Pain was familiar_.

And pain didn’t bother Tim anymore.

Tim slips off the edge of the bed until his feet land on the cool marble of the floor. His vision blurs and he blinks to regain focus. He needed to get out of here. Hopefully find his way back to one of his safe houses or to Tam— get healed up as quick as he possibly can before getting the _fuck_ out of Gotham.

No one was here, it looked like. Not yet, at least. Tim is relieved to be waking up in an empty room. He had to leave before Bruce caught a hold on to the fact that he’s awake.

Slowly coming to a stand, he stumbled and reached out to press a hand against the bed to stop his teetering. Tim sighed, and tried to straighten up, but the wound in his chest wouldn’t allow it, causing him to double over with a hiss of pain.

His steps were sluggish and slow, being more focused on avoiding face planting the floor.   
  


He leaned tiredly against the wall, pressing his thumb against the keypad and watching the white light turn green before the doors open. Dragging his feet, he walked out cautiously, looking around. No one.

He stumbled around slightly, his body swaying in a way that made him seem drunk. Occasionally he felt his vision blurring or the pounding in his head becoming fuzzy and wondered if he should’ve just stayed in the bed.

And then he thinks about Bruce’s reaction to Tim’s failures and knows he made the right decision. 

He can’t go upstairs. But he can’t stay here, either. Making his way over, he typed the code to open the cave doors for the batmobile and walked outside through that.

It was raining. Pretty heavily too. Tim cursed under his breath as he was drenched, but he refused to stop, trudging weakly over time the gates.

He unlocks the gate and walks out, letting out a tired sigh. He wonders if he should be more concerned by the fact that he was annoyed he managed to live.

That sounded really bad... 

Good thing it’s just him and his head, then.

He can’t go back to Titans Tower. Not with this injury and there’s no way he’d make it all the way to his safe house. He needed something close by.

He looks over to the right. 

Oh.

Drake Manor.

_That_ he could make without passing out.

He swallowed the heaviness in his throat, making his way tiredly across the grass towards his old home. He didn’t have the energy to walk all the way over and around the sidewalk.

His feet sunk into the wet dirt, and he realized to his own stupidity that he’d forgotten shoes in his haste to get the hell out of the manor. That wasn’t good.

He suddenly slipped, and had no time to panic before he fell face first into the wet grass.

Okay, _really_ not good.

“God, why are you so pathetic?” He asks himself, intending for it to be a joke but tears still prickle the corners of his eyes. Man, his chest really hurt. Every breath into his lungs felt like a knife digging in deeper and deeper.

He slowly rose to a hunched position, siting on the floor and feeling the cold water soak into his skin. He wiped as much dirt away from his cheeks as he could, taking his time to carefully rise to a stand.

His lips trembled and he was hunched over as he slowly drags his body over to the entrance of Drake Manor. He barely presses his hand over the gate, shaking it weakly before his body completely gives up and he collapse to the floor.

”Fuck,” he whispers to himself quietly, voice croaky. He turns, leaning back until the metal bars dig into his skin.

He looks up towards the sky, his tears mixing with the water droplets. Hopefully he’s far enough away from the Manor to be undetected in such a vulnerable state. He can’t push himself up— can barely keep his eyes open.

For some reason, the rain doesn’t feel cold anymore.

He wonders if it would be such a bad thing to die right there.

For once, he lets himself drown in self pity.

-

When Jason walks into the medical bay to see an empty bed, the cup of tea Alfred had given him drops to the floor and shatters into a million pieces.

The IV was laying on the bed along with the vital cords, and Jason curses as he runs back up to the Manor, looking around frantically.

He runs into Dick trying to leave the kitchen, the older man looking confused. “Tim’s gone.”

Dick freezes, a look of disbelief on his features. “What? What do you mean he’s _gone_!?”

”What does gone mean to you, Dick!?” Jason snapped, pacing around the kitchen while clenching fists in his hair.

“Well, is he in the Manor!?” Dick hisses back.

”Fuck, I don’t know Dick! Why do you think I’m running around up here!?” Jason fumed.

That’s when Bruce walks in with Damian in tow, both looking like death reincarnated. Bruce paused, taking in both Jason and Dick’s threatening stances. “What’s the problem?”

”Tim’s gone!” Jason screeches once again, heart beating against his ribcage unforgivably.

Bruce froze, anger growing on his face. “What do you mean he’s gone!? Where’d he go?”

Jason was seriously getting sick of that question. “Gee, Bruce. You think I’d be standing here if I fucking knew that?” Jason answers sarcastically.

”There’s no way he's in the manor. I would’ve been able to tell him coming up here.” Dick ignores Jason’s snark, turning to Bruce. 

“Did you check the cave before coming up here?” Bruce asks Jason and Jason rubs the back of his neck, frustration growing on his face. “No. But I doubt he’s down there.”

A second of silence passes through them.

”Did you guys know that pneumonia is a higher risk for people without spleens?” Dick whispers, his face pale.

Jason looks out the window where it’s raining heavily and everyone’s breath seems to hitch.

Then Damian turns in a flash, running right towards the door and out into the rain.

”DAMIAN—“ Dick panics, moving to go after him but Bruce yanks him back.

”You go down to the cave and see if you can find Tim while looking over video feed of the cave to see where he might’ve gone. Jason and I will go look for Tim outside.” Bruce demanded harshly, and Dick doesn’t even answer, storming straight towards the cave.

Jason doesn’t wait for Bruce, storming outside where Damian has left the door wide open.

”There’s no way he went back to his safe house in this weather and the condition he’s in.” Jason shouted over the loud sound of the falling droplets. “I’m guessing he just woke up so he’s going to be weak— he couldn’t have gotten far.”

Bruce looks around before squinting somewhere far off. “Drake Manor.”

Jason doesn’t waste anytime and he’s steps behind Bruce as they run as fast as their legs can take them, slipping occasionally on the wet dirt. As they reach the gates Bruce stops dead in his tracks and Jason stumbles into him. He almost screams in frustration until he looks over and stops cold as well.

Because there’s Tim, laying unconscious and soaked on the floor, completely pale. Over top of him is Damian.

Damian doing chest compressions. 

Bruce doesn’t hesitate and he’s right next to Damian, looking Tim over.

”His pulse, it’s faint— I can’t feel him breathing!” Damian shouts.

”Jason get over here and take over chest compressions. Now.” Bruce snaps. Jason is frozen, unable to think or move and Bruce turns to him with the most furious look in his eyes. “JASON!”

Jason snaps out of it, stumbling towards them and shoving Damian to the side before shakily trying to pump Tim’s heart. “Bruce,” Jason croaks.

”He needs a defibrillator,” Bruce hissed and pushes Jason away before scoping Tim into his arms and storming back towards the manor as fast as he can.

Jason is quick behind him after grabbing Damian’s trembling body and holding him close, his heart pounding in his ears. 

Dick is already setting up the heart monitor and IV once again, his movements rushed as Bruce payed Tim back down in the bed. Jason quickly puts Damian into a chair before rushing over. Alfred is helping him in moving the crash cart over to the bed.

”Jason, chest compressions right now. Dick hook up the heart monitor.”

Jason is firm this time, pressing and pumping exactly how Bruce has taught him years ago. Dick gets the IV back into Tim and the heart monitor comes to life. “He’s flatlining. Blood pressure dropping.” Dick chokes out.

”Alfred help Jason turn him over!” Bruce hisses, getting the pads out. Jason helps as they both turn him over and Alfred pulls his wet shirt back for Bruce to stick them on before they lay him flat again. Jason resumes chest compressions right after. 

Bruce grips the defibrillators tightly as Alfred quickly lathers the gel on top the pads. Jason rips Tim’s shirt open and continued the compression as Bruce warms them up hurriedly. “Charge 250!”

Alfred turns the nozzle and the beeping intensified. “Clear away!”

Jason moves away and Bruce presses the defibrillators against Tim’s chest, his body retching up from the shock.

”Still nothing!” Dick cried out, his entire body trembling.

Jason instantly moves back into compressions. Because _no_. _Tim can’t die. Not like this_. 

“Charge 300,” Bruce snarled, his eyes filled with fear. Alfred shakily ups the energy. Jason moves back.

Shock.

Nothing.

”Bruce,” Dick’s voice trembles, hands covering his face as sobs wreck throughout his entire body, Jason continues compressions as his vision blurs.

”Charge 350!”

Shock.

Nothing.

Jason stopped, collapsing to the floor with tears welling up in his eyes.

”JASON!” Bruce shouted.

”THERE’S NO FUCKING POINT, HE’S DEAD!” Jason screamed back, tears finally streaming down his face.

Bruce doesn’t believe it. Of course he doesn’t believe it. He turns to Alfred. “Charge 400.”

Even Alfred hesitates, sorrow washing into the old man’s eyes. “M-Master Bru—“

”_CHARGE 400_!”

Alfred complies.

Shock.

And then a choked gasp.

Jason froze as a blissful beep grew on the heart monitor.

”Oh my god,” Dick gasps out, pressing himself tiredly against the wall, relief shining in his eyes as Tim’s heart went to normal patterns.

Bruce went slack against the machine behind him, limp hands dropping the defibrillators.

Tim coughed and Jason sprung to his feet, leaning over his bed with disbelief. 

Tim blinked blearily up at him, looking half awake. “O-Ouch.” He slurs.

Jason let’s out a pathetic laugh of happiness, blinking his tears away. 

Jason is just about to yank Tim into a hug when Bruce is suddenly over the boy, his arms going tightly around his weak body. Tears burst out of his eyes and Tim can only blink over his shoulder to try to stay awake. “I’m so sorry,” Bruce sobbed against Tim’s hair, burying his face into his son’s neck. “_Oh god_, I’m so _sorry_.”

Tim slowly loses conscious again but his heart is _beating_, and that’s all that matters. Throughout it all Bruce doesn’t let go, and he whispers the words over and over again until his voice goes raw.

Jason shut his eyes and just listens to Bruce cry.

The sound is comforting.

-

Bruce stormed out of the medical bay, his eyes red and puffy, a downright murderous look in his eyes as he went straight for his suit.

”Bruce, where are you going?” Dick asks desperately, trailing after him. Jason watches them both with hallow eyes.

”To confront the man who did this.” Bruce snarled, yanking his cowl over his eyes before climbing into the Batplane. “Don’t any of you dare leave him alone in that room. Even for a second.”

And then Bruce closed the cover, starting the engine up and opening the door before the plane jilted out.

Dick and Jason stood for a silent moment between them.

Alfred was drying Tim and getting him into warm clothes while Damian was curled up against the chair next to the bed his eyes wide open and empty.

”How did all of this go so wrong, Jay?” Dick whispers, leaning weakly against the wall.

Jason didn’t answer. He hasn’t said anything since Tim’s heart started beating again. 

Dick rubbed his eyes. “Can you take first watch over Tim so I can try to get Damian to go to bed for a few hours?”

Jason nodded silently, looking towards the floor.

His head hurt. Everything about him hurt. Tim was stupid. _Incredibly_ stupid. Jason wanted to strangle the kid for scaring him like that. Jason _understands_. Gets how much Tim hated the Bats right now and how much he wanted to stay away from them. But _fuck_, the kid hated them THAT much that he’d rather _die_ than have to wake up and see them?

That concerned him. A lot. 

Maybe even _he_ was underestimating how damaged Tim was right now.

”Cool—“ Dick began but was interrupted by a loud alarm and flashing red lights in the cave.

Someone was trying to break into the cave.

Dick and Jason looked at one another for a second before they were rushing to the computers. “Fucking hell, can we get just a MINUTE!?” Dick shouts, slamming his fist against the table before typing into the computer. “It’s coming from the back west wing.” Jason grabbed Dick’s Escrima sticks, the only weapon near by and stood tense in front of the back entrance.

”Wait—“

The doors burst open with inhuman force, and a familiar figure clad in blue and red took a step inside, his black leather jacket and funky haircut plastered to his forehead from the rain and brushing into his fury burning bright blue eyes.

”Where’s Tim?” Conner snarled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Whispers to self* Are you turning this into JayTim?
> 
> Self: .....
> 
> Bish don’t you do it.
> 
> (Yes I went with 90s Kon because I love 90s Kon don’t @ me lmao)


	3. Chapter 3

Ra’s Al Ghul calmly flips the page, gently swirling the glass of red wine in his hand. The clock behind him on the wall ticked endlessly.   
  


He closes the book softly, adjusting it to the corner of his desk before coming to a stand graciously. He walks along the glass panels showing the dark night of the outside world, miles and miles of tall mountains and trees.

It was at that moment, staring out and letting his eyes trail the outlines of a particularly tall mountain, that a dark figure burst through the glass and knocked him to the floor roughly.

Ra’s hissed as he landed on his front, his arm twisted in an uncomfortable position as the glass shattered to the floor, spilling red liquid all over the carpet.

”I was wondering when I’d be graced by your presence again, detective.” Ra’s mocks.   
  


“Shut up,” Batman snarled, his voice dark and incredibly angry. He grabbed the communicator from Ra’s waist and held it up to his mouth. “Call them off.”

”You have quite rude manners, I must say.”

Batman squeezes his fingers back and Ra’s subtly flinches. “Commander, stand down.”

Ra’s looks over his shoulder, his green eyes running over the face of the man in front of him. “As much as I enjoy our meetings, I cannot recall what has brought about your presence here tonight.”

Batman is tense, his muscles jumping with fury. “What did you do with Red Robin?”

A dark look grows in Ra’s eyes. “Do you not believe you are a bit late for this interrogation?”

Bruce sends a hard elbow into the middle of the old man’s spine and the Al Ghul lets out a grunt of pain. “I’m not playing games. What have you done?”

Ra’s let’s put a bitter laugh. “Me? I have done nothing. The younger detective however, has done _quite_ a lot. As much as I admire him, the salt within these wounds still run deep.” He practically bites. 

“He destroyed your work.” Batman states. Ra’s looks murderous. “Yes. Everything I had worked for, gone. It was rather easy to get him by my side. You were presumed dead and he was running wild looking for you. When The Widower ripped his spleen out, it was _I_ who brought him back to full recovery. It was _I_ who offered him the world, an army for him to lead— for him to control in my stead. And he repays my kindness by destroying everything. Admirable, but _foolish_.”

”I’d be very careful with your words.” Batman snarls, pushing his head into the wooden floor painfully. “You went after Wayne Enterprises because of it.”

”Retribution, Detective.” Ra’s reasons. “As much as he is my favorite among your soldiers, he had humiliated me greatly. For that, he needed to pay.”

”You weren’t able to do so, though.” Batman snarks. Ra’s sends him a pointed look. “I do not call him Detective for nothing. Is this what you came for? To comprehend what had happened in the wake of your disappearance? Because it seems to me that you already know everything, Detective.”

There’s a moment of silence.

”Not quite.”

Then Ra’s tenses with icy shock, because Batman had reached up and yanked his cowl off to reveal the cold, dark blue eyes of Bruce Wayne glaring hatefully down at him.

”What—“ Ra’s began, taken off guard for one of the very few moments of his life.

”I just want you to remember that Batman isn’t the one who did this, but Bruce Wayne.”

And then Bruce broke Ra’s arm.

Ra’s let out a shout of pain.   
  


Bruce leaned down to his ear. “If you _ever_ come near my son again, I’ll do more than break your arm.” He dislocates the same shoulder causing the man beneath him to hiss. “Stay the hell away from my fucking family.”

Then he’s gone.

-

Jason slowly lowered the Escrima sticks, blinking at Superboy slowly. “What the fuck are you doing here, spandex?”

There was a gust of air and Jason is suddenly staring at a slightly less familiar man dressed with a lightening strike flash emblem.

”The others are probably gonna take a while longer to get here.” Impulse states, his usually annoying snark not present. “Now— where’s Robin?”

Dick and Jason shared a look.

”We're not talking about the assassin kid. Where’s _our_ Robin?” Conner steps up next to Bart with narrowed slits of his eyes.   
  


“How did you even...?” Dick slowly trails off. A dark look passed Conner’s eyes. “Know? I,” he swallows. “I heard his _heart stop beating_.”

Jason stood straighter. “Well, then you know he’s fine now.”

Conner frowns. “I know his heart is beating again— what the hell happened?”

Dick glances over to Jason.

”You don’t keep up with the news much, do you?”

Conner looks warily between them both. “We’ve been kinda busy and it’s not exactly something we have time for.”

Dick rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah, uh. Three days ago we went to a charity event and, um, someone tried to kill Damian to get revenge on Bruce for his aid in meta teen rehabilitation.”

Bart and Conner looked at each other. “Tim...?”

”Got in the way of the shot. Took the bullet against the edge of the heart and lung.”

Conner stares across at Dick with shocked blue eyes. “But that’s... Then how come his heart beat stopped an hour ago?”

Jason doesn’t answer when Dick looks over at him pleadingly. He couldn’t tell them. He couldn’t bring himself to. Any words out his mouth tasted like poison now.

Dick sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “Tim woke up and tried leaving the cave. We found him unconscious outside and... his spleen— or lack thereof, caused his heart to give out and we had to resuscitate him. He’s... _stable_ now. That’s the best he can possibly be. It’s just a fear of him catching pneumonia but we’re monitoring him more carefully from now on.”

Bart stares blankly at Dick while Conner freezes up. “Hold the fuck up. What do you mean _lack thereof_?”

Jason furrowed his brows. “So he didn’t tell you guys either. Doesn’t surprise me.” He mutters to himself.

Conner seems to be losing his patience, his fingers curling up into fists. “Hey, answer my question because I’m getting really fucking sick of the ominous answers.” He snaps and Dick frowns. “Tim lost his spleen fighting the Council of Spiders and League of Assassins. We didn’t know until yesterday. Wait— how do you two not know about this? I thought Tim told you everything?”

Bart looks horrified. “I guess not everything. What the hell, Grayson? How did you not know until yesterday? Were you even with him when that happened?”

Dick feels something heavy starting to grow in him, suddenly anxious. “Bart, Kon... What exactly has Tim told you all about what happened when Bruce disappeared?”

Something wasn’t adding up...

They both frowned. “Well, when we came back Tim was... different. We figured most of it was losing Batman and us, but he never really did recover fully even when both came back. He just seemed... robotic. All the time. Everything was work and there was no room for anything else no matter how hard we tried. I tried talking to him so many times but he always said that everything was alright and he was still talking and hanging out with everyone like usual so we didn’t really think much of it.” Bart admits, looking slightly guilty.

Dick bites the inside of his cheek. “What do you mean hanging out with everyone?”

Bart frowns. “Well, he still hung out with us outside of team stuff and always went home for Christmas and weekend visits so we honestly didn’t think anything was wrong.”

”Hold the fuck up.” Jason interrupts instantly. “Tim hasn’t been back in the manor for _two years_.”  
  


“What?” Conner hisses, stepping towards them. “That’s a boldface lie. Tim always mentions how he’s heading off for Gotham after he finishes weekly reports.”

”Kon,” Bart says quietly, looking sick. “We always left before Tim did. Tim was always the last one in the tower those days.”

Conner looks completely sickened, his hand reaching up to grip his hair tightly. “But— _Tim wouldn’t lie to me_. He _wouldn’t_. W-Why would he lie to me? More importantly, why didn’t he go _home_?” He turns to them with narrowed eyes. 

”Oh for fucks sake— _he_ _lied_! To everyone! He made us think he was with the Kents for Christmas and made you believe he was home. Because we treated him like trash and he didn’t want anyone else to know about it!” Jason explodes, his words angry. Dick puts a hand on his shoulder but he shakes it off violently. “Don’t fucking touch me, Dick! We’re fucking disgusting!”

Conner looks like he wants to pass out, gripping the table so hard that it cracks under his fingers. “What the fuck did you do to Tim?”

Dick looks like he’s dealt with enough of this, having to go over the entire conversation with so many people that it’s starting to drive him crazy. “What did Tim tell you guys when you came back?”

Conner looks like he’s losing his patience with both of them. “He said Bruce went missing, and that he went to find him and that’s all he mentioned about it. He never said anything about the Assassins or the spleen. All he said was that he couldn’t be Robin and be out looking for Batman at the same time because you were Batman. People would catch on. So he gave Robin to Damian and took on Red Robin. By the time he came back, we told him to take it back but he said he’d never take it away from Damian because it wasn’t fair. He seemed fine with it.”

”Oh no no no no,” Dick grips his hair, turning and hunching over. Conner looks alarmed. “What? What’s wrong?”

”He fucking lied. He didn’t give Damian Robin. I ripped Robin away from him and gave it to Damian. He tried to bring you back to life and tried to convince me that Bruce was alive too. I thought he was losing his mind in grief and refused to help him so I could focus on Gotham and Damian. Then he disappeared and fought both the League and the Council by himself, lost his spleen. Almost died. Twice. Had to take up the company so Ra’s didn’t destroy it. And he came back with Bruce. But we barely had time to fucking greet Bruce before Tim had completely disappeared from the radar. We thought as long as he’s alive, he’ll come by eventually. He never did. We drove him away.” Dick explodes, telling them everything. “He lost everyone, and I took anything else I could from him. Left him to fend for himself because I was a coward and made myself believe he’d be okay—“

Dick barely has time to even blink before there’s a strong grip on his throat and he’s being shoved up against the wall. He coughs, staring back at Conner’s murderous eyes. “How could you do that?”

Jason freezes up as Dick grips Conner’s arms tightly, wincing under his hands. “I fucked up. I know.” Dick chokes out.

Conner tightens his grip slightly and Jason grips the escrima sticks tighter, raising one to thwack the bratty kid off, but Bart is over to him and gently pulling Conner off of Dick.  
  


“Bart, how could we let this fucking happen man?” Conner hisses, his eyes turning glossy. Jason looks away with a tired sigh.   
  


“We should’ve noticed something.” Bart mutters. “All those times he was rushing to get us out and making excuses to be the last one left in the tower... two fucking christmases alone in that fucking empty building... all those weekends in silence. I can’t stand a fucking hour alone in the tower, and he was in there alone for God knows how long.”   
  


Conner cups his face. “I should’ve fucking noticed the spleen. Should’ve asked him more about why he’d gone so emotionless. Oh god, what have I done?” Conner looks over at Dick with hateful eyes. “How could you fucking do that to him? Calling him crazy and letting him run around on his own when you knew he was being careless? And you did all that shit and never tried to come to him at the tower to fix it? What is wrong with you people!?” He spits with venom. He points viciously at Jason. “He fucking hates Tim’s guts—“

”_Used_ to.”

”— and he still came to us asking where Tim was—“ Conner stops.

”He lied about France, didn’t he?”   
  
  


Jason looks away and Conner lunges at him but Bart holds him back. “YOU KNEW! You knew he was lying to us and didn’t fucking say anything!” Conner shouts at Jason who clenches his teeth. “I respected Tim too much to say anything!” Jason snapped. “If he lied it was for a fucking reason!”

”That’s the problem!” Conner snarls back. “You guys think Tim knows what’s best for himself because he always acts like he can handle anything and everything— well, he CAN’T! If you had told us the truth we would’ve been able to help him sooner and he wouldn’t be in this fucking situation with any of you right now!”   
  


Jason wants to punch something. Maybe Conner. Maybe himself, honestly. “I’m fucking sorry, okay?” Jason hisses. “I tried my fucking best, alright!?”

”Yeah, at least he tried.” Bart snips, throwing a look at Dick who wants to crawl into a hole and die. “Jason Todd. The guy who tried to kill Tim more times than the fingers on my hands came to find him and his _big brother_, the guy he trusted the _most_ couldn’t even be bothered to _ask_.”

”If you’re here to tell me I’m a piece of shit, you might want to get in line.” Dick says emotionlessly. “I... know I made a lot of mistakes. I thought if I ignored them long enough, that they’d go away and I could make things right. But I was wrong. Tim didn’t need me to fake it, he needed an apology and I ignored it all because I thought Tim was fine and he wasn’t. It’s my fault. I did this to him.”

”We didn’t do shit either.” Conner hisses to himself. “It’s Tim. He’s been through a lot. Just give it time. That’s all we thought it was. _Time_. But all that time did was make him cold. Fuck, Bart.”

Bart looks towards the medical bay. “Is he in there?”

Dick nods silently. Bart regards him for a moment with icy eyes. “He was your brother. He was our brother. We might’ve been too ignorant to notice something wrong, but you knew exactly what you did. All of you did. Damian, Bruce, Jason, you... Tim is going to recover. And when he does, he’s coming back home. With _us_. Because as much as we don’t deserve him, _you_ deserve him even less.”

With that, Bart walks over to the medical bay. “Let me the fuck in.”

Dick numbly presses his thumb on the pad and the doors open.

Conner glares are him. “Even after everything, he still made you and Batman seem like saints to our eyes. I hope you remember that.”

The doors close behind him.   
  


  
Jason rubs the back of his neck, staring at Dick’s tense back. “Hey, Dick—“

Dick turned and punched the concrete wall, screaming violently at it.

Jason rushed over, grabbing him. “Dick! Please—“

Dick shoves against him, punching the wall over and over with bloody knuckles until Jason was able to drag him to the floor. “Dick, stop it! You’re hurting yourself!” Dick thrashed in his arms, screaming over and over as he banged his feet and fists on the floor.

”I said STOP DICK!”

Dick pushes against Jason with fury raging in his shaking body, and Jason holds him tightly through it with eyes shut tightly. Finally, after what seems like ages, the fight leaves the older man and he slumps against Jason’s chest. Sobs wretch out of him as he curls a bloody hand around the arm wrapped around his waist. Jason shakily runs a hand through his hair. “Shh, it’s okay Dick.”

Dick’s sobs continue to echo throughout the cave and Jason can only whisper calming things to him and thank _fuck_ that the medical bay is noise cancelled.

”Dick, please. Calm down.” Jason hugs him tighter and Dick’s sobs resort to soft muffles as he shoves his face into Jason’s chest.

Jason leans tiredly against the wall, staring blankly up at the ceiling of the cave. Eventually Dick falls asleep, three days of endless physical, mental, and emotional toll forcing him to pass out and Jason rubs his eyes.

”It’s going to be the hardest it’ll ever need to be before it can get easier. I promise. But you need to stay strong. Without you, we'll all fall.” Jason murmurs to the unconscious man. “I can’t be you, Dick. No one can.”

Of course, Jason gets no reply.

He still hugs Dick close to him anyway.

-

  
When Damian first came to the manor, one of the very first things that caught his attention were the photos on the wall. Endless rows of photos throughout multiple walls and hallways. What always caught his attention was _who_ were in those photos.

He’d walk, eyes trailing. _Grayson, Drake, Grayson, Grayson, Drake, Todd, Pennyworth, Drake, Drake, Grayson, Pennyworth, Cain, Drake, Grayson, Todd, Drake, Cain, Brown, Grayson, Drake, Drake, Drake..._

Drake.

Nothing of Damian.

He tried not to let it bother him. But he was bitter. Bitter of a boy spending years living a life that should’ve been his. The League of Assassins were different from his father. This was his birthright. It was his burden to claim that birthright at any given stake.   
  


But the League and the real world were different. _Very_ different.   
  
  


It was worse that Drake was kind. Damian hated him for it the minute he came by in the cave that day. Hand out, all smiles. At that time, it was like the older boy was mocking him and taunting him the same way those photos in the halls had. It was like Drake was rubbing salt in fresh open wounds. But he wasn’t. And Damian was wrong for thinking that. _So_ wrong. Because Drake wasn’t mocking him or making him feel less than, he just wanted Damian to feel welcomed.

And Damian hurt him in every way he knew possible.

He knows. Knows he doesn’t deserve the love his father and Grayson give him. He hadn’t done anything but bring trouble and pain to this already dysfunctional family. Yet still, they continued to care for him. He wasn’t ignorant to the favoritism he received. He’d been favorited his whole life, moving from an heir to the League of Assassins to the blood son of a billionaire— a vigilante. Back then, he really didn’t care for the favoritism. Didn’t care for the free card they’d give him every time he ruined something. Because it didn’t matter to him then that he was treated kinder for his background or his age. Now, however— now it _did_.

But Grayson. Damian still doesn’t know how he did it, but the circus boy had changed Damian’s entire perspective. There’s a lot that Damian is too stubborn or too prideful to admit, but the one thing that was indisputably true was his deep affection for Dick Grayson. Because Dick was the only one who fully believed in him from the very start to now. He was the only one who never gave up on him, no matter how bad things got or how terribly he lashed out. Damian couldn’t pay Dick back for the things he’d done for him. Because Dick had sacrificed something too great for his sake.

He allowed his relationship with Tim to deteriorate for Damian. 

Damian would _never_ forgive himself for coming in the way of them both.

It was something that drove him absolutely crazy. The way that everyone attacked Grayson for something that was nobody’s fault than his own.   
  


Because no one was to blame but Damian. If it wasn’t for Damian, Dick wouldn’t be forced to push Tim out of Robin. Hell, even if Damain acted a _little_ more like a sane person, Dick wouldn’t be forced to do the things he did.

If Damain didn’t _exist_.

Tim wouldn’t be like this now.

Damian stares down at Tim’s face. His skin had gone back to its healthy hue. Although still relatively pale, it wasn’t deathly pale like he’d looked outside.

Damian knew. He knew he didn’t deserve any of it.   
  
  


He’s startled out of his thoughts when the doors to the medical bay open, forcing him to come to a stand as he yanks a batarang out, throwing it at the unfamiliar figures.

The taller one catches it with ease, inches away from his face with an unimpressed look. “Fuck off demon Robin.”

”Superboy,” Damian sneers. 

Conner glares back at Damian hatefully. “You’d think hanging out with Jon would make you less of psychopath.”

Damian pulls another one out. “And yet, you hanging out with Drake has not helped with your incompetence much.”

Conner toss the batarang back to Damian passively, looking pissed off. “Yeah, keep them coming thief. Step away from Tim. Between you and Jason, I’m five seconds away from beating both of you to a pulp for acting all buddy buddy with him now that he’s dying when all you’ve ever done is try to _kill_ him.”

Damian swallows that bullet with a grain of salt. “You don’t know what you are talking about, _clone_. Do not act like you know everything when he clearly didn’t tell you everything.”

A flash of pain passes through Conner’s eyes and Damian wants to bite the words back as soon as they leave his mouth. “Look— I’m not trying to fight with you. I just—“ he begins shakily, taking in a deep breath. “I needed to see him. For myself. Please, I— I don’t have it in me to argue with you.”

Damian doesn’t reply, simply steps aside towards the corner of the room with his eyes trained on both him and a rather silent Impulse. 

Conner moves cautiously towards the bed, his eyes glossed over. “Jesus, Tim.” He reaches over and gently caresses his cheeks with a pinched expression. Bart comes to the other side, tears already growing in his eyes. “He’s worse than I thought he’d be,” he whispers.

Conner simply collapses in the chair Damian was residing in, a tired expression gripping his features as he reaches out and grips Tim’s hand tightly. “We messed this up, Bart.”

”Yeah, we really did.” Bart sighs, sitting gently on the bed by Tim’s side. “Do you know when Cassie and BB are getting here?”

Conner shrugs. “Depends on how fast they can get the streets cleaned up back in San Francisco.”

Damian cuts in. “Logan and Sandsmark are coming here as well?”

Conner throws him a dirty look. “Not like we have to tell you anything, but yeah. Starfire and Cyborg are gonna hold down the tower with Raven and Jaime so that we could be with Tim. We’re gonna be here until he heals up and then we’re taking him home.”

Damian scowls. “_This_ is Drake’s home.”

Conner lets out a harsh laugh. “Oh, really? That’s why he hasn’t been here for two years? Or how he’s been stabbed in the back by practically everyone in your fucked up family of assholes? Am I wrong about that too? I’m not personally obligated to take talk from someone who’s tried to kill him more than once, thank you very much.”

Damian falters, looking away with frustration. Of course he knows. Knows he’s made more mistakes than he’d like to admit. And yes, the weight of the pain caused by those mistakes weren’t really something he had taken into consideration. But it’s because Tim just hid it so _well_. Nothing Damian ever did seemed to force Tim to hold a grudge. Damian now realizes that he falsified that thought. Because yes, Drake didn’t hold grudges against him. Not due to his inability, but because of him repressing his true emotions to the point where it manifested into something mentally harming to himself.

Damian doesn’t think he’ll forgive himself for that, either.

-

When Tim stirs awake for the second time to find himself back in the same damn bed, he knows he shouldn’t be surprised by there being a figure looming by his side. He almost wants to curse himself once more for ending back up where he started with the wrath of Bruce increased by ten folds, but he’s too busy with the fuzzy and warm feeling in his head— something heavy and throbbing deep in his mind as he shifts slightly. 

He’s also shocked to see Damian sitting by him.

”Drake!” Damian exclaims, jumping out of his chair.

His quick motions sends Tim’s heart monitor to go into a crazy frenzy, his body so used to being ready for defense mode around the youngest Wayne.   
  


Damian stares at the heart monitor with a strange look flashing in his eyes.

Tim tries to sit up, but Damian pushes him back slowly.

Then Tim’s mind shuts down and his body snaps in a panic, shoving Damian with shaky and weak hands. “W-wait—“ he rasps out, voice deep and croaky.

”I do not wish to harm you, Tim.” Damian says, voice quiet.

Tim is too focused on his out of control breathing to be shocked by Damian calling him by his first _name_. The erratic breathing is causing his chest even more sharp pains and he tries to control it as best as he can.

”B-Bruce...?” Tim chokes out, voice rough. Damian fiddles with his fingers. “Father isn’t home. Grayson is resting and Todd is patrolling in our stead with Oracle’s direction.”

Tim moves to sit up and Damian hesitantly reaches out, stopping short when Tim visibly flinches. He instead lets out a sharp breath, handing Tim a tall glass of water. His civility was creeping Tim out. A lot. “When is Bruce coming back?” He finally manages after getting cooling liquid to hydrate his throat.

”Soon, most likely.” Damian answers short. Tim leans tiredly against the bedpost, letting out a weak sigh.

”I guess me leaving a second time isn’t gonna happen, then?” He mutters to himself bitterly. Damian stares blankly at him. “You died.”

Tim freezes. “W-What?”

”You died. Flatlined for two minutes straight. Father revived you back to life.”   
  


  
A heavy silence fills the void in the medical bay, apart from the constant beeping of the heart monitor. Tim looks away awkwardly. “Well, it’s about time huh? Surprised I haven’t died sooner.” He jokes with a weak voice, still faint from his sleep but Damian doesn’t think it’s funny. “Hey, I’m kinda tired,” Tim slurs as he slips back into laying on the bed, already feeling his vision blurring.

Damian stays silent for a moment.

”... Tim?”

Tim, through his sleepy haze, is shocked by how small Damian sounds. “Hm?”

”I am sorry. For making you hate me. Forgive me.”

Tim blames his losing conscious for not processing those words better. “I don’t hate you, Damian.” He whispers quietly, voice soft. He tries to blink up at Damian, seeing clarity at Damian’s vulnerable expression. “I never hated you. It was you that hated me.”   
  


  
Damian freezes. “What?”

Tim yawns, a weak smile growing on his face. “I was... excited, you know? To have a younger brother. I was planning on handing Robin down to you myself.” 

That puts Damian in a full shock. “But.. _why_? You loved Robin.”

”I did,” Tim admits gently, eyes shutting. “But I figured my time was coming to an end. It wasn’t like I was _wanted_ as Robin. I sought it out myself because Batman _needed_ a Robin. Bruce didn’t want Tim Drake, but Batman needed Robin. So I filled the role as best I could. Then you came. I wasn’t just gonna hand it to you, ya know? It means as much to me as it did to Dick or Jay. But they wanted you. And the difference between me and the rest of you is that I was a necessity, not a wish. And that’s okay.” Tim tells him with such honesty that Damian feels gut wrenched.

”I’m not mad,” Tim tells him, so casually and so comfortably like it was easy for him to say.

The sad thing is, Damian _believes_ him. He knows Tim’s not mad. And that’s the problem— because he _should_ be.   
  


“It hurt.” Tim whispers so quietly, and Damian can’t help himself from reaching over and squeezing his hand. “_God_— it hurt so bad. It still hurts. But I’m not mad— you believe me, right? Because I’m not.” Tim is slurring his words now, sounding almost drunk on pain.   
  


“It was my fault.” He mumbles. “Thinking I could force my way into Bruce’s life outside of Batman. Ultimately that got Robin taken away from me too. I wanted too much. Bruce adopting me just made me have hope that maybe I could be more than Robin. That was a mistake, huh?” Tim laughs weakly, almost heartbrokenly. “It’s okay. I changed that too. No more room for misconceptions. Hey— he must be really happy with you. I hope he is.”

Damian squeezes his eyes shuts but Tim continues to mumbles his words out, voicing his thoughts as if Damian wasn’t sitting right there.   
  
  


“Hey, Dami. Do you believe in Karma?” Tim asks. “I do not succumb myself to such superficial things.” Damian manages to choke out through the lump in his throat. Tim hums in understanding. “That sounds just like you. I do. I feel like me getting my parents killed by becoming Robin is the cause of my bad karma of what happened to me now. What goes around comes around, you know? The thing with karma is that it’s fair.” He affirms.

Damian shakes his head half heartedly.   
  
  


“Hey... I’m happy. Happy that you’re Robin— I mean it. Happy that you’ve found your place here. I was hoping I’d be able to take you under my wing before giving you Robin, but you hated me. So I guess it’s better that it was Dick and not me. But... it’s not fair, you know? I understand that my job here is to be used, but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less.”

”You’re job in this family is not to be used, Timothy.” Damian hisses back at him, furious at Tim’s thinking. Tim stays silent for a moment. “You’re a terrible liar, Damian. You don’t understand. Yes it is. It always was. I knew my purpose was being used until I wasn’t useful anymore. I still went into this knowing that that’s all I’d ever be important for. That’s why I have no right blaming Bruce or you. It’s my fault.” Tim chokes, and there are tears growing in his eyes. “Part of me wishes I never went out with my camera that day. I’m awful for thinking that way.”

“You’re not—“ Damian began weakly, but Tim cuts him off swiftly.

”It’s funny. That you think I’d fall for that. How could I, when both you and Jason remind me everyday where I stand! A replacement, a _pretender_. I know what I am. But I just wished I could be _more_.”

Tim blinks tiredly. Damian feels like his eyes are burning. “Tim, do you hate Dick?”

Tim’s entire face drops, and Damian has never seen a more pained expression on someone’s face before— something so heartbroken. “Dick,” Tim whispers, and there are tears sliding out of his droopy eyes, lips trembling.

Damian flinches at that reaction, horrified by it. He never realized how badly Dick’s actions had damaged Tim’s mental state, but seeing the older boy laying in front of him, lucid to thoughts, it hits him like a train. Dick wasn’t the sole cause— but he was Tim’s _breaking point_. 

Tim shuts his eyes, his hand clenching tightly on Damian’s. “Dick was everything to me. And I was _nothing_ to him.” He chokes out through a sob and Damian really doesn’t know what to do about it, because the crying makes Tim’s face contort in pain and he knows it’s causing pressure to his wound. “Calm down, Timothy. You’re hurting yourself.” Damian tells him gently. 

“I want it to.” Tim says harshly, and Damian flinches. “At least with pain I can feel _something_. Anything other than this emptiness.” His words slur with one another, and Damian knows it’s getting even more difficult for him to stay awake. “You’re Titans are here,” Damian tells him, hoping it’ll bring some sort of comfort.

Tim blinks up at him blearily through fresh tears. “K-Kon?”

“He's resting in the manor with Allen. They’re in your room. Pennyworth forced them to get some rest.”

Tim stays silent for a long moment, his hand tight in Damian’s grip. “I love Kon.” 

“I’m sure you do,” Damian reassures, just wanting Tim to go back to sleep. 

“He’s my best friend. And Bart,” Tim tells him. “I love them.”

”They love you too.” Damian says awkwardly.

Tim nods. “I’m sorry, Damian.”

”For what, Timothy?”

”For existing.”

Damian grits his teeth.

“I’m tired, Dami. Is it okay if I sleep for a little bit?” He slurs, eyes already fluttering shut.

“Yes, Tim.”

“Okay.” Tim pauses. “Dami?”

”Yes?”

”I don’t hate you.”

-

When Tim wakes up a third time, Alfred is next to him reading MacBeth out loud in a soft voice. “Better be with the dead, Whom we to gain our peace, have sent to peace—“

“Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.” Tim interrupts with a rough voice as Alfred turns to look at him sharply with wide eyes. “Master Timothy!”

Tim smiles weakly up at him. “Hello, Alfred.”

Alfred is on his feet in an instant, helping Tim sit up with both wincing. “Master Damian informed me that you had awoken once before, but I am quite relieved that you are doing well enough to remain conscious now.”

Tim furrows his brows. “Damian said I woke up?”

”You don’t remember?” Alfred blinks in surprise, handing Tim a glass of water. Tim takes greedy gulps, trying to go slow to ease painful tension in his chest. Something fuzzy in his brain remembers faint images of Damian’s worried face, but nothing past that. _Damian worried. Wow, what a concept_. Tim thinks to himself with a snicker. “Not really.”

”Well, never mind that. How are you doing, my boy?” Alfred takes the glass away and sets it on the side table before running a gentle hand through Tim’s hair, caressing his cheek. Tim sighed quietly, pressing into the touch desperately. “I’m okay. How are you?”

”Better. Much better now that you have awoken.” Alfred tells him. “Are you hungry?”

Tim winced at the thought of food, but his stomach still growled. “Honestly, I don’t want to eat anything.”

”Good. I’ll prepare something immediately.” Alfred smiles down at him, ignoring his request. Tim snorts, not surprised. “Coffee?” He then asks hopefully. “Absolutely not.” Alfred shuts him down immediately.   
  


  
Tim looks around warily. “What time is it?”

”It’s around half past six in the morning. You’ve been unconscious for five days now. I will prepare some pancakes and toast, as well as a cup of tea and I will also inform Miss Thompkins of your wake.” Alfred informs him, yet he stands calmly by the door.

Tim blinks at him, feeling something heavy growing between them. “Oh... Is that all?”

Alfred looks conflicted before he stares directly into Tim’s eyes with no remorse. “We have been requested by Master Bruce to never leave you alone in this room. I have called Master Jason down to watch over you while I prepare breakfast.”

Tim stares dumbfounded for a moment, before something hateful burns in his chest. “I’m not a child who needs to be babysat.” He snaps, obviously furious.

Alfred’s expression doesn’t shift. “Of course not, Master Tim. You know as well as I that I don’t agree with Master Bruce’s rules much. However, I have watched you die and be revived in Master Bruce’s arms more than enough times. I believe you are more worried about leaving than you are of your health, and that is dangerous to your wellbeing. For that, I must agree with Master Bruce.”

Tim huffs. “Big man, big rules and yet he’s nowhere to be found.” Tim says bitterly.

“Master Bruce is returning in a few hours time.“ Alfred sighs, a saddened look growing in his eyes. “And he loves you deeply, Master Tim.”

Tim doesn’t reply, and the doors to the medical bay open. Jason walks in, hair wet from what Tim can assume was a shower. He’s not in his gear, rather in a deep red hoodie and a pair of dark sweats. “Hey, you’re awake Timbers.” Jason grins, but Tim can’t help to notice the look of something conflicted in those green eyes. 

“Good morning.” Tim answers carefully, watching as Jason walks around his bed to settle into the chair Alfred was occupying to his right. 

“How are you?” Jason asks him, fiddling with the MacBeth copy in his hands.

”I’m fine.” Tim swallows, feeling uneasy. Something was wrong. The tension between them was obvious, and it seemed like Jason was restraining himself from something. It bothered Tim. Made him feel on edge, like Jason would explode. He wouldn’t say it was necessarily close to Jason when he was pit crazy, but something deeper and more rugged. Tim didn’t like it.

Jason hums. “I’ve got it from here, Alf.”

Alfred nods, leaving them alone in the medical bay.

”What is it?” Tim immediately asks. Jason peeks up at him, green eyes dark. “What do you mean, Timbo?”

”_This_. I can tell when you walk on eggshells around me and you don’t need to. I’m not a kid, Jason. So what is it?” 

Jason stared at him hard for a long moment, lips pressed in a firm and grim line. “I’m not gonna treat you like a porcelain doll. I never do, so I’m gonna be frank. I just need to know that you’re okay with questions because I’m gonna fucking ask them. So, do we have an understanding?”

Tim stares back at him, incredibly wary. “I can’t promise I’ll answer.”

Jason leans back, regarding him carefully. “I figured. But I’m gonna ask anyway. Is that okay?”

Tim looks away to his lap. “I guess.”

”Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Tim freezes.

Jason’s eyes don’t leave him, and Tim already regrets allowing this— regrets confront Jason. Because Jason was blunt, and straight to the point. He didn’t ease into anything.

”Of course not.”

He’s _not_. Sure, he’s thought about the _what ifs_, thought about it happening more times than he can remember. But he didn’t seek death out. Just told himself that if it happened, he wouldn’t necessarily be mad about it. He wouldn’t kill himself, though. That... That _wasn’t_ suicidal.

Jason nods slowly. “So you just don’t care if it were to happen.”

Tim’s eyes shoot up to meet Jason’s. 

“Relax. You’re not the only one to think like that in this family.” Jason tells him calmly, ruffling some water droplets out of his hair. “Tim... I need to make something clear.”

He comes to a stand, two steps and he plops himself on the bed. Tim watches him as he does and when Jason pulls him tightly against his chest, he’s momentarily brain dead.

”What are you doing?” Tim asks him numbly.

”I’m hugging you.” Jason states. “I know that, dumbass. I meant _why_?” Tim snorts against Jason’s shoulder. “You’re not really the touchy feely type, Jay.”

”I’m trying to be a good older brother and you’re ruining it, Timmers.”

Tim bites out a laugh at that. “Wow, you’re _actually_ referring to yourself as my _brother_? Maybe _you’re_ the one that should be laying in bed right now.” Nevertheless, Tim nuzzles his face tightly into Jason’s neck, breathing in his calming scent. This is what he loved about Jason. How natural everything came, even when he did something totally unexpected like this. Nothing was ever awkward with him.

“You give me less credit than I deserve, Timbers.” Jason jokes, but Tim still curls a tight hand around the back of his hoodie. “I know.” Tim answers quietly. “I’m sorry.”

”You have _nothing_ to apologize for.” Jason states firmly. “Do you understand me? _Nothing_. But, _I_ do.”

Tim frowns in confusion when Jason pulls back, eyes serious as he stared straight into Tim’s. “I’m sorry. For everything I did. For everything I _didn’t_ do.” 

Tim eyes him warily. “That’s all old stuff.”

“No. It’s not.” Jason disagrees. “Because I never apologized for it. I just acted like everything was okay. As if attacking you and leaving you for dead more than once was something you’d get over with time.”

Tim smiles bitterly then. “Oh. I get it now. So _this_ is how it’s going to go? Everyone’s gonna throw me a pity party now that you’ve all found out about my spleen.”

Jason tensed. “No, Tim. That’s—“

”Why? That’s the other thing you were gonna ask me about, wasn’t it? I’m not an idiot.” Tim huffs, but upon noticing the guilty gleam in Jason’s eyes he lets out a laugh of disbelief. “No— you already know what happened. All of you do, don’t you? Let me guess— Tam?”

”We needed to know what happened to you,” Jason finally admits and Tim lets out another dark laugh. “So. How is it now that you all know?”

”This isn’t a joke, Tim.” Jason’s snapped. “Stop trying to downplay how much shit you’ve been through with this shitty humor.”

”That’s where you’re wrong. Because of _course_ it’s a joke. What do you want me to do? Wait here patiently for big bat to come storming in and lecture me for hours about how much I’ve been disconnected from everyone? It’s sad, huh? That’s what you must’ve been thinking. The poor Tim Drake, went from the ace perfect family, heir to Drake industries. To an orphaned punching bag that people only call when it’s completely necessary.” Tim bursts, words storming out of his mouth without his brain processing them. Jason stared at him with wide eyes. He froze, turning away with tense shoulders. “Get out.”

”Tim—“

”I said _leave_.”

”I can’t.” Jason sounds frustrated. “You can’t be left alone—“

”I’M NOT SUICIDAL, DAMN IT!” Tim shouts, the heart monitor going in a frenzy. A shot of pain hits his chest and leaves him breathless, causing him to double over with a wince and a deep groan. “Tim!?” Jason hovers over him, concerned.

”Why?” Tim’s voice trembles. Jason stops. “W-What?”

”Fuck, Jason— _why_!? The only reason we got so close was because I knew you didn’t care. You don’t _care_, Jason.” Tears prickle the corner of his eyes. He reaches up and grasps Jason tightly by the shoulders, his deep blue eyes piercing through Jason’s. “Jason you _have_ to tell me you don’t care. _Nobody_ does. You _don’t_ _care_.”

Jason swallows, gently reaching up and wrapping his hands around Tim’s wrists. Tim tightens his grip on his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Jason murmurs and tears finally start streaming down Tim’s face.

”I can’t give you that.”

-

Tim stared blankly at the IV drip, Jason sitting calmly by his side in the chair again. 

Alfred had brought breakfast down about an hour ago for them both, not leaving Tim’s side until he finished at least half the plate. Tim wished he would’ve stayed instead of Jason, but Alfred had to cook breakfast for the others too, so he left with their plates after they had finished.

A heavy silence had settled between Tim and Jason. Tim hated it with a burning passion. He knew that their talk wasn’t over, just postponed because Jason wasn’t always an asshole and could tell when Tim had enough. Tim appreciated it as much as he was irritated by it. 

When the medical bay opens, Tim doesn’t even look over, just watching the drops of liquid slide down the tube.

”Tim!”

Tim shifts his gaze so quick, catching sight of a very familiar face. “K-Kon!?”

Tim doesn’t know if he’s imagining stuff now, but Kon is standing there, in one of Jason’s blue t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. His blue eyes shine with a happiness Tim hadn’t realized he ached to see.

”You’re awake!” Another pops out from behind Kon, red hair unmistakeable along with his freckles, bright doe brown eyes staring at him.

”Bart!”

Bart is by his side in a blink of an eye, holding a hand against his forehead. “Oh, good! Your fever is going down. Robin 2._Sucks_ said that it was kinda bad the first time you woke up.”

Tim snorts. “You’re actually here— but why? _How_?”

Kon steps over to sit by his right side, pulling him into a tight hug. “I _hate_ you, Tim.” He hisses and Tim can feel something wet on his cheek. “Kon— are you crying?”

”Of course I’m crying, stupid!” Kon snaps, pulling back to prove it. Sure enough there are tears streaming down his face and a heavy weight settles in Tim’s heart.

He presses his forehead tightly against Tim’s, face pulled into a pained grimace and eyes squeezed shut tightly. Tim blinks at him softly. “Hey—“

”I heard you die,” Kon’s voice trembles, hugging Tim closer to him. “I-I heard it. Your heartbeat getting fainter and fainter before it just _stopped_. And you weren’t anywhere near me.”

”I’m sorry,” Tim tells him gently, pulling Kon’s face back and padding his thumbs on his cheeks so that he’d open his eyes. Kon blinked back at him with a frown. “They were going to shoot Damian and I—“

”Tim you tried leaving the cave with a gunshot wound in your chest.” Kon snapped, obviously not happy. Tim glances over at Jason but he was staring the other way with an emotionless expression.

”I-I thought I’d be fine—“

”We know.” Bart cuts in, voice icy. “Know that you’ve been lying about the visits here. You haven’t been to the manor in two years.”

The heart monitor picks up speed, and Kon grips his hand tightly. “It’s okay. We won’t talk about it right now. All that matters is that you’re okay.” Tim looks between them, half with guilt and half with obvious anxiety.

”Tim Drake, how could you!”

Tim looks up towards the door to see Cassie standing there with her arms crossed, a sniffling Gar next to her. “Cassie! Gar!”

”Don’t you _Cassie_ me, Tim!” Cassie stomps over, shoving Kon to the side and pulling him into a tight hug. “Kon told us you were dead! Should’ve known better— there’s no way your smart ass would die _that_ easily.”

Kon glares at her from where he's sprawled across the floor. “Hey! I—“

“You shut up!” Cassie snaps. “Asshole— couldn’t even send a quick message, _hey Tim’s not actually dead guys_!”

Kon frowned. “I’m sorry! How many times do I have to apologize? I forgot!” He whines and Tim let’s out a laugh, eyes shining with happiness. Jason stares at him from the corner of his eye.

”Yeah, yeah. Save it for another day tough guy.” Cassie snorts, pulling back from Tim enough to shoot him a dirty glare. “This is why we don’t let you two idiots do anything together alone. You and Bart are an abomination.”

”Hey,” Bart says, offended. Gar jumps into the bed and hugs Tim tightly around the waist. “Tim! You’re alive!” He sobs pathetically. Tim laughs, patting his green hair gently. “Yup. I’m alive.”

”It’s nice to see you all getting along like usual.”

Tim’s hand froze in Gar’s hair.

He looked past Cassie’s shoulder to see Dick leaning against the entrance of the medical bay. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his usual cheery smile was no where to be present, face blank and eyes hallow. Tim swallowed, because Dick— Dick looked like _him_.

Tim averted his gaze, not like Dick was looking at him anyway. Dick was looking everywhere _but_ at Tim.

”Yeah, man! Thanks for letting us crash here, I know we’re a handful.” Cassie chirps.

Tim looks over and can’t help but notice Bart and Kon’s hateful glares pinning Dick in his place.

”Of course.” Dick smiles weakly at her. “Um... Bruce is on his way back, ETA an hour away. He doesn’t really know you’re all here though, so—“

”We’re not going anywhere.” Kon snarls. Dick stared back at him calmly. “I know. I’m not suggesting you leave. But I’m telling you that he may not be the most welcoming at the moment. We don’t usually get visitors by this number.”

Bart snorts. “Good to know. Anything else?”

Tim stares at both of them, horrified. This reaction towards Dick— Tim really didn’t like it. Anxiety bubbled in him at the thought that maybe they’d figured out what happened between him and Dick.

”No. Nothing.” Dick says bluntly.

Jason, who had been munching on an apple, leans forward towards Bart with a dark look in his eyes. “Watch it.” He all but growls in a low voice, trying not to be heard by anyone else.

Bart stares back at him defiantly. “Back off.”

”Um,” Tim clears his throat, wanting to ease the obvious tension that him, Cassie, and Gar seemed to be the only ones out on. “Who’s at the tower?”

Cassie turns back to him with a smile. “Starfire and Cyborg along with Raven and Jaime—“

“_Dick_.”

Everyone in the room froze, a part from Dick who jumped about five feet off the ground with a loud shriek, turning to the looming figure at the doorway.

Bruce towered in the entryway, still in his suit but cowl pulled back and a furious expression oh his face, deep blue eyes dark.

“Oh shit.” Jason chokes on his apple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kon fans:** WE WANT TIMKON
> 
> **Jay fans:** WE WANT JAYTIM
> 
> **That one person in the back:** Um, what if we just do no pairs—
> 
> **Another one:** What if we do them ALL!!!
> 
> **Dami fans:** AYE DAMITIM WOULD GO SO WELL WITH THIS STORY BRUH
> 
> **Me:**
> 
> **Dami, Tim, Kon, and Jay:** yo what the FUCK have you done
> 
> Ok ok ok lmao.
> 
> OKAY!!!
> 
> I know, I started this shit and I’m sorry lol. I was just testing waters and I instead created a Jacob vs Edward 2.0, horrifying, I know. FORGIVE ME! But you know what, I started this off platonic and I’m gonna keep it completely platonic (I mean, if you wanna let your imagination run wild, go crazy). I just feel like the focus should be on Tim’s mental health rather than a relationship even tho that’d be lots of fun to do. I’m sorry if I lead anyone on, but I think this is for the best, because I wanna focusing on healing Tim’s broken relationships not add more lmao. 
> 
> Anyways, I’m sorry this came pretty late but the semester is ending soon and Chem is killing me slowly so I’ve been pretty busy. I hope you liked it, though! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is more like a 3.5 than a 4 (Sorry I wasn’t able to get the next chapter out yet, but I’m overseas and enjoying some well needed time with family for Christmas after my horrific exams) and it takes place during Christmas two years ago, roughly 5 months after Bruce returned and Tim disappeared, 2 months since he’s been back with the Titans. Kinda confusing, Sorry >.<
> 
> I know this can be pretty confusing so: 5 months ago- Bruce returned and Tim disappeared, 2 months ago- Tim returns to Titans Tower but doesn’t return to work in Gotham until another whole month after being back in San Francisco. 
> 
> (This is Tim’s first Christmas alone in Titan’s Tower)

Tim’s eyes felt heavy and burned slightly from the artificial light of the computer screen and he types furiously, wanting to get this report finished before the sun set. Ever drag of his top lashes against his bottom ones felt like it drained all the energy within him, and he reaches blindly over for his mug when a loud ringing of a bell was heard next to his ear.

Tim winced, pulling back and looking over his shoulder with narrowed eyes on Bart who grinned at him brightly. “MERRY CHRISTMAS TIM!” He practically screams on the top of his lungs. Tim scowls. “It’s not Christmas yet, Bart. And stop _screaming_.”

Bart pouts, practically collapsing on top of Tim as he coils his arms tightly around his shoulders and rests his chin on top of his hair. “I know, I know. Christmas is three day away but we’re all leaving soon so I don’t get to say it to you any later than this!” He whines.

”We’re all probably not going to be back in the tower until after New Years either. Considering it falls on Saturday this year.” Cassie adds with a large grin, flying over to them and leaning over to peer at Tim’s computer curiously. “Whatcha working on, Timmy?”

_Timmy_.

Dick’s dazzling smile and bright blue eyes shining with happiness flashes in his mind for a moment before he shuts the image out of his head with clenched fists and tense shoulders. “Reports for the Dalton case.” Tim answers calmly, impressed with how natural it comes out. 

“I thought we closed that case two weeks ago.” Conner interrupts whatever Cassie was about to say, setting his suitcase by the entrance of the hallway as he walks over to them. Tim’s heart deflates at the sight but he looks away regardless. “We did, I’m just writing closing reports for the databases.”

”Come on, Tim. It’s Christmas! Turn that off and come say goodbye.” Gar shouts in a muffled voice from where he’s filling his mouth with the gingerbread cookies Cassie and Kon had worked on.

Tim let’s his lips curl up in a smile as Cassie goes over to slap the rest of the cookies out of his hands. “Gar! You’re eating them all!”

”I couldn’t help it, they were just so good.” Gar whines. Just then, the elevator doors open and a familiar figure walks in dressed in a warm, yet thin jacket and a cute cream beanie over her head, green eyes unmistakeable.

”Kori!” 

Cassie practically jumps onto her with a crushing hug. Kori hugs her back just as tight with a happy giggle. “Hello, Cassie!”

”I’m here too!” Another light voice hums, walking around the corner with multiple suitcases in her hand. “Hey, Kara!” Tim grins. Her eyes brighten when they land on him and she’s flown over to him in the blink of an eye, pulling Tim up into a tight hug. “Tim! It’s been too long!”   
  


Kon eyes her suitcases disapprovingly. “You know we’re only going to be gone for like, less than two weeks, right?” Kara only sticks her tongue out defiantly at the other El. 

Gar pouts. “It’s already time?”

Kori smiles gently, pulling back from Cassie to walk into the living area. “Well, if you want to keep Victor, M’gann, Raven and the others waiting then be my guest.” She mused. Gar huffs, transforming into a humming bird before flying past Tim and down the hallway to get his bags.

“You guys heading out to Titans East?” Tim asks and Kori nods with a big grin. “I thought it would be most great to participate in the Holiday festivities amongst friends who have not plans rather than to be alone on such a gracious day.”

Tim smiles softly. “That sounds nice.”

”You may join us if you wish, Tim!” Kori tells him with a wide smile. “Raven and Victor decorated the tree beautifully!”

”Tim’s got his own family that haven’t seen him enough, Star. He’s heading back to Gotham.” Kon informs her, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders with a wide smile. Tim’s heart clenched at his words but kept his smile frozen on his face. “That’s right, but thank you for the offer Kori.”

Kori places a kind hand on his cheek. “Of course!”

Gar choses that moment to come thumping down the hall with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Tim! I forgot to give you this.” He hands Tim something and Tim looks down at the small yet smooth item in his hand. A little wooden robin, painted red and black stares back up at him cutely. “A Robin?” Tim asks, looking back up at Gar’s green eyes with a content smile.

”A _Red_ Robin. Carved it myself! I used gloss polish to make it smooth and so it wouldn’t chip the paint too,” Gar says with a pride. “You like it?”

Tim clutched it tightly in his hand, holding it against his chest protectively. “I love it. Thank you, Gar.”

Gar gives him a bright smile. “I knew you would!”

Kori walks back over from where she was talking to Cassie and Bart. “Ready to go? Cassie’s heading our way too before going off to her mother and father’s home.”

Gar nods, giving Tim a tight hug. “See ya soon, Tim! Tell Dickie I said hi!”

Tim forces a smile on his face. “Of course.”

Kori pulls him into a hug too. Tim tries not to melt against her with how familiar her touch felt— how familiar this hug was. “Let Grayson know I bid him hello as well!”   
  


Tim let’s out a harsh laugh. “Right. I think he’d love to hear it from your mouth more than mine. Maybe try calling him?” He suggest and Kori smiles shyly. “I shall!”

Cassie is next, pulling Tim into a tight hug. “I’ll miss you Tim! I’ll see you soon though. No later than two weeks! Promise!” 

And with their final goodbyes, all three leave from the balcony.

Tim turns back to see Bart adjusting his googles, clad in his suit as he tightens the straps of his backpack and shaking himself slightly to ensure it’s secure.

“Barry won’t appreciate you running in on Christmas break as Impulse.” Tim tells him with amusement. Bart grins wildly at him. “It’s all crash! Gramps needs to be on his toes anyway.” Then Bart is engulfing him in a tight hug, and Tim wraps his arms around him just as tight, taking comfort in Bart’s calming coconut scent. “I’ll see you later, buddy.” Tim murmurs in his hair.

”Don’t miss me for too long,” Bart winks cheekily, jumping onto Kon’s back with a tight hug before zooming down the stairs with a final wave.

”I hope he trips and face plants snow,” Kon snorts, opening the balcony doors and pulling Kara’s suitcases out.

Tim chuckles, grabbing Kon’s duffel bag for him as Kara skips out onto the large balcony with a gingerbread cookie between her lips. “It’s snowing pretty calmly tonight, huh?” She asks them, the cold breeze gently shifting through her blonde hair.

”It’s gonna be calm from now on.” Tim says, voice heavy and eyes swirling. Kara smiles at him. “I like when it’s calm.”

Tim can’t help but smile back at her.

He pulls her into a hug, handing her Kon’s duffle bag which she graciously takes, kicking off the ground and into the sky. 

Kon turns to Tim then with a small frown. “You sure you don’t want me to fly you back to Gotham? It’s only a few ways away from Metropolis.”

Tim stares back at him with a small upwards quirk of his lips. “Nope. You have to carry Kara’s bags. Besides, I’d waste a perfectly good plane ticket.”

Conner groans at the mention of Kara’s bags. “If you insist. Come here.” Kon opens his arms wide and Tim wastes no time in stepping forward, burying his face into the other’s chest and clenching the back of his leather jacket tightly. Conner tightens his arms around him, rubbing his cheek gently against the top of his hair. “I’ll miss you, Timmers.”

Tim pushes himself harder against Kon’s chest, shutting his eyes. “Me too, Kon.”

Conner pulls back, ruffling his hair before grabbing Kara’s bags and kicking off the ground. Tim looks up at him while happy blue eyes stare back down into his own, Kon’s wild grin unforgettable.

“Merry Christmas, Tim.”

Then Kon is gone, and Tim is alone.

Tim clenched tight hands around the cool metal of the balcony banister, head lowering and shoulders tense. Behind him, the warmth of the tower’s heating system brushed against his back like a whisper but he can’t bring himself to turn and look into the empty building, hollow and numb like him. 

He instead turns his eyes out to the rows and rows of tall buildings and bridges covered in bright and beautiful fluorescent lights ranging from white to deep reds and greens. There isn’t really a breeze out tonight, and the snow falls seamlessly to the floor straight down from the sky.

It clings in his hair and he slowly let’s go of the banister to hold his palm up, a blank look down at the pale skin. He watches snowflakes land on his hand, staying for barely a second before they melt to his warmth, leaving behind nothing but tiny droplets of water.

He lets out a breathless chuckle at the irony of it before finally turning back towards the tower and walking inside, shutting the glass door quietly. Silence greets him.

He drags his feet over to the kitchen counter, staring down at the plate of gingerbread cookies, only three left and one with its head bitten off. Tim snorts at that, knowing it was an abandoned cookie from Gar because he always bites the heads off first so they feel less pain. 

He opens his hand to stare down at the Red Robin charm once again. A smiling bird stares back up at him happily. He grabs a cookie, walking over to the coffee table he was working on and attaches the Robin to the strap of his shoulder bag he used for his laptop.

He bites into his cookie, noticing the difference in taste and understands its vegan for Gar. Tim eats it regardless. The entire house had been decorated in Christmas decorations, but the living area especially was decked out with strings of Christmas lights and ornaments.

Tim ignored them, opening his laptop and finishing up his report.

His typing is the only sound that fills the void of silence surrounding him.   
  


-

When Tim wakes up that morning with bleary eyes, he wasn’t expecting a familiar brush of long silky silver hair to cloud his vision and the weight of something on top of him.

He shot up from the bed.

”Careful there, boy wonder. Or should I say _ex_ boy wonder?” A giggling voice reaches his ears. Tim blinked, tightening his grip on the waist of the person currently in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. “Rose?”

“Hiya.” Rose muses, teasing smirk evident on her face.

Tim shoots her a look, shoving her as gently as possible off him and towards the side of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge as he rubs his tired eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

Rose crawls towards him, tracing a finger over his bare arm. “Hmm... shouldn't that be _my_ line?”

Tim scowls, yanking his arm away from her proximity. “No. I live here. You don’t.”

”Hey, you gave me visitation access to the tower.” She says, a flash of annoyance in her eye. 

Guilt grows in Tim. “I did. I’m just confused why you’re here right now. Is something wrong?”

Rose stares at him for a moment, all teasing gone and expression oddly serious. “Again, my line. What’s Tim Drake doing at Titans Tower all alone with Christmas Eve just two days away?”

Tim sighed, raising to a stand and grabbing his red hoodie to throw on over his bare upper half. “Flight home got pushed back.”

Rose snorts, obviously not believing him. “You didn’t answer my question.” Tim switches the topic back.

Rose looks slightly embarrassed then. “Well, I was just dropping off some gifts.”

Tim glances at her, surprised. “For the Titans?”

Rose rubs the back of her neck. “Yeah, well. I had some extra stuff I was getting rid of and thought you guys would like it as a decorative piece for the training room or something. You can go look at it if you want. They’re Chinese alloy daggers.”

Tim can't help the grin that grows on his face. “How sweet of you! You’re so cute—“ he began to tease and Rose shoots him a venomous glare. “Keep talking and you’ll be castrated.”

Tim lets out a laugh, shaking his head and walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. Rose follows and sits on the counter as he does so, her eye watching him curiously. He glances at her with a raised eyebrow as he washes his mouth out of the toothpaste, splashing his face with some cold water before patting it dry with a towel.

”So, ex boy wonder, you gonna tell me what you’re doing here all alone?” She asks and Tim sighs as he combs throw his hair carelessly. Of course Rose wouldn’t let go of this.

”Why should I tell you?” Tim asks and Rose smirks. “Because I don’t like a lot of people, but _you_ I can respect because you respect me. So just think of it as a mutual appreciation. Plus seeing you here instead of with big bad bat is surprising. I’m just curious.” She tells him, hoping off the counter and following Tim out his room and down the hall. “Plus I’m not gonna say anything to anyone. I don’t really care _that_ much.” 

Tim lets out a deep breath, shoulders sagging. “Let’s just say I’m not in the mood to be around the Bats right now.” He mutters, starting the coffee machine.

”Daddy issues, Drake?” Rose muses and Tim throws her a dark look. “Listen. I don’t need you prying into stuff that has nothing to do with you, got it?”

Rose rolls her eyes, tracing a fingernail around his cheek and down his jaw. “Aw, bird boy your threats are cute at best. You’ve gotten so much colder since France. Shiva was _that_ hard on you—“

Tim grabs her wrist, glare downright murderous now. “We had an agreement not to mention those few months—”

Rose has a knife pressed against his throat in a millisecond, his arm twisted behind his back. Tim didn’t react much apart from rolling his eyes. He knew Rose wasn’t going to hurt him. She was just dramatic.

”Relax, kiddo. No one’s here. I’m not breaking any promises. I’m just letting you know Shiva wasn’t the only one who saw a broken down Robin in front of her turn into an empty shell of a man within the span of three months with nothing to offer but cold indifference.” She hissed.

”So you do care,” Tim whispers bluntly, a cruel smile growing on his face. Rose shoved him off, tucking her knife away. “Think what you want. You were more fun back then. No one likes emptiness.”

Tim looks back at her with dull eyes, smile hollow. “Don’t forget I saw you those three months too, Rose.”

Rose scoffs, brushing past Tim to the elevator. “Whatever. Shiva might’ve helped you become a Tin Man, but that won’t last. Watch yourself, Rob. Otherwise everything’s gonna come crashing down and you won’t know what to do. Hang the daggers above the entryway of the training room. Merry lonely fucking Christmas, Tim Drake. Cheers to the depressed bastards of the world.”

Tim holds his coffee cup up towards her which she grins at, entering the elevator and letting the doors close, leaving Tim in silence once again. Tim takes a long sip of his coffee, letting out a deep sigh.

“Merry lonely fucking Christmas indeed.”

-

Later that night, Tim physically can’t take the absolute silence and dark emptiness of the tower any longer, deciding to go out to eat something and just walk around the city so he can see and hear anything other than nothing.

The Chinese place he goes to is practically empty when he walks in and orders a simple bowl of shrimp Lo Mein, eating as quick as he can when he notices the cashier giving him dirty looks for keeping them open longer since he walked in 15 mins before they closed. He makes sure to leave a $40 tip on the table when he leaves.

The streets were still pretty much abandoned, but it beat being in the tower anyway. Tim doesn’t know how long he walks, a rare car or two passing by or some people walking out of Christmas shops with laughter and smiles, heading home to their families and friends.

Tim buries his mouth into his scarf, pulling his beanie further down to cover his ears before shoving his cold hands into his pockets as he continues his thoughtless trail to God knows where. He should’ve grabbed gloves.

Eventually, his walk takes him to the Capitol of the city. The glimmering lights of ranging colors are bright, next to the steps up the building is the large Christmas tree decked with ornaments and blinding twinkling lights.

Tim walks over, staring up at the star where it gleams on the top of the tree. A cold flush turns his ears, cheeks, and nose a bright red and a puff of air can be seen as he lets out a sigh.   
  


He leans over the railing protecting the tree, pulling his phone out and plugging his headphones in. He goes to his full voicemail, pressing the first message.

”_Hey Tim! It’s Dick! We’re getting kinda worried, dude. You completely disappeared yesterday—_“ Dick’s chirpy voice with a hint of hesitancy rings in Tim’s ears, the message from nearly four months ago. Tim hits the number seven button.

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.

”_Hi Timmy. It’s Dick again. Can you just let me know you’re okay? We found your tracker destroyed last night—_“

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**. 

“_Hey Timmy. It’s, uh, Dick. Again. For the third time, actually. There’s a family dinner tomorrow night. Just wanted to ask if you’re showing up—_“

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**. 

“_Timmy! I miss you! When are you coming back to the manor? How about we go on patrol sometime soon—_“

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.

”_Timmy? Are you in Gotham? When are you coming back? I’m sure San Francisco can hold without you for a few da—_“

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.

”_Tim? Are you there?”_

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.

”_Hello Tim. It’s Bruce. I’ve noticed recent Red Robin activity in San Francisco these past few weeks. Can you call me back when you find the time? I assume you must be rather busy, however—_“

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.

”_Hi Timmy. Bruce found evidence that you’re in San Francisco. Glad to know you’re doing okay! Do you wanna come by for lunch sometime so—_“

**MESSAGED MARKED FOR DELETION**.

”_Hey there Replacement. Listen, Bruce is kind of an asshole and Dick is being annoying so can you get your ass back in Gotham already because I need help on this case and I’m not going to those fuckers—_“

**MESSAGE SAVED**.

”_Hey Tim. Christmas is in a week. Are you coming home? We all miss you and Alfred’s making your favorite sugar cookies—_“

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.  
  


”_Tim, dinner’s a few days away. Are you with the Kents? I know Conner just came back and I understand you wanting to spend Christmas with him. Could you at least let me know that you’re not coming—_“

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.

”_Tim?_”

That’s the last message. His name whispered in a fragile and fearful voice by Dick, static silence before the message ends. 

Tim looks up at the tree blankly.

**MESSAGE MARKED FOR DELETION**.

-

It’s the night before Christmas Eve day and Tim has completely torn the Tower apart, throwing his mattress across the room and yanking all the drawers out. He rips his clothes and breaks all the picture frames before moving to the bathroom with tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, punching the mirrors with such force over and over again because he just can’t stand the sight of his own face.

He moves to the kitchen, ripping down all the ornaments and lights, breaking them in his palms and ignoring the painful jolts or the blood that pours out of them. He punches the walls over and over and screams, clenching his bloody fingers in his hair.

Quietness greets him after his anxiety filled tantrum ends.

He slides to the floor next to the Christmas tree in the living area, the only undamaged thing around him. He curls up on the floor under the tree, sobs wrecking through him until he can’t make a sound anymore, his body quivering.   
  


-

Tim spends most of the morning on Christmas Eve cleaning the mess he made, wrapping his hands in bandages calmly before fixing everything back to the way it was before— making sure not a single thing was out of place, even replacing the mirror in his bathroom on his own. He even took the time to nail the dagger plaque Rose brought above the doors of the training room. 

It’s when he’s putting his things back in the drawers that a sleek black box catches his attention. Tim froze when he saw it, picking it up carefully.

_“I hope you find this room to your fitting, Detective.” Ra’s tells him with a curl of his lips, green eyes glinting in the lamp lights. Tim gives him a dark look. “Not my most comfortable stay, that’s for sure.”  
_

_Ra’s walks around the room slowly, eyes shifting through the items curiously. “You don’t say? This was my grandson’s room, after all.”_

_Tim freezes. “This is Damian’s room?”_

_Ra’s looks back at him with eyes that pierce straight through him. A dark grin grows on his face. “Why of course. You are my successor now and have taken his place so you will now have his room. I hope you grow to love it as much as he had.”_

_”I won’t.” Tim says bluntly. “And I’m not taking anyone’s spot, Ra’s. The sooner you realize that, the better it is for everyone.” _  
  


_Ra’s let’s put a loud, vile laugh. “Oh detective. You already have.” Then he departs._

_Tim sighs, sitting on the bed with a frown. Ra’s was insane, and Tim should get out of here as soon as he possibly can. But Ra’s is also Tim’s only way to Bruce, and Tim can’t let that opportunity slip past him.   
_

_He stood, walking curiously over to the table where various items were lain out. One in particular catches his eye. It’s a glinting dagger. Tim picks it up, looking it over curiously. It was heavy, the dagger made of silver and gold alloy. The handle was made of elephant ivory. What specifically catches his attention is the Arabic engraving on the side._ _  
_

_”Albi.” Tim murmurs the word softly, reading the Arabic carefully. My heart. No doubt a gift from Talia to Damian.  
_

_Tim sighs, moving to put it back when he stops. Something heavy settles in him and he stares at the dagger hesitantly._

_”Fuck it.”_

_He pockets the dagger protectively._

Tim slowly opens the black box and sure enough, the dagger still rests there peacefully. It glints and glimmers with the light. 

Tim shuts the box abruptly with a clenched jaw. “No, Tim.” He whispers to himself. “Absolutely not. Throw it away.”

Yet Tim can’t bring himself to throw it away, instead pacing around his room anxiously, the box gripped tightly in his hand. “Throw it away, Tim... Throw it away... You don’t owe him anything— he’s treated you like the garbage beneath his feet. Throw it away, throw it away, throw it away...” Tim falls onto his bed, cupping his face tightly. The thought of even doing such a thing puts his mind in override with guilt. “Fuck.”

\- 

Tim sits quietly in a bench three benches away from the back of the Church, his bag clutched tightly in his grasp. There weren’t many people in there, apart from proud parents of the children singing carols at the front joyously, their calming voice relaxing Tim’s anxiety a bit.

”Do you mind if I sit?” A kind voice asks, and Tim looks over to see a slightly old, probably in his mid fifties, priest smiling down at him politely. “Not at all,” Tim answers in a quiet voice, shifting towards the right so he can sit down next to him.

”That’s my granddaughter.” The old man tells him happily, pointing to a small 7 year old girl with her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, singing her heart out. 

“She seems very lively.” Tim answers honestly, relaxing his shoulders.

”She is. Every Christmas Eve she comes to sing for the Church before we all go home for dinner,” he smiles contently. His eyes shift over to watch Tim’s face carefully then. “But you seem new. Are you from around here?”

Tim smiles, but his eyes are dull and empty. “Yes, I was raised here in Gotham. Actually, I’m just not really religious.”

The man hums to himself. “Not many people are these days. Why is that, anyhow? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Tim doesn’t shift his eyes away from the intricate paint on the glass panels. “I just... If there really was a God, I don’t think he’d let us suffer as much as we do.” 

“Suffering is a show of strength. I like to think that our test isn’t about how much of it we endure, but how much we allow ourselves to grow from it.” The old man tells him, a knowing smile on his face. 

Tim frowns. “Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of confronting the people and things that went wrong in my life. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to do it. Because I can’t forgive anyone when I can’t even forgive myself. And how can I possibly forgive someone who doesn’t even apologize?”

The man contemplated Tim’s words carefully. “You know, when my granddaughter was 5, she was afraid of stairs. She fell down a few steps when she was 3. I tried to help her as much as I possibly could. She was screaming and crying before I could even get her near the first step of the church doors. But by the time I got her to the first one, she was on the second and on the third all on her own until she was bouncing up the stairs. That first step is always a difficult one, but not impossible. All you need is a little nudge of encouragement and you’ll be on the top of those stairs before you know it. There’s no rush. Besides, it may be easy falling down from stairs, but it’s impossible to jump to the top. So just take your small steps and you’ll get there in no time.”

Tim stares at the man next to him, not expecting to get words of wisdom like this from a complete stranger. He slowly comes to a stand. “You know what, I will. Thank you, sir. For giving me my nudge.”

”Of course,” he smiles as Tim zips his coat on, turning to walk out the doors. “It was my honor, Mr. Drake-Wayne.”

Tim froze. He turns quickly back to the man who only smiles teasingly at him. “You know me!” Tim exclaims.

The old man laughs. “You really think I wouldn’t recognize the son of Gotham’s most eligible socialite?”

Tim smiles. “I guess not.”

The man gives him a beaming grin. “Forgiveness isn’t easy, Timothy. Sometimes it happened in a blink of an eye, sometimes it takes time. As long as you keep your faith, whether that’s to God or to people or even to yourself, always remember to never lose it.”

Tim give him a genuine smile, eyes brightening slightly. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. Thank you, sir.”

”You’re most welcome Mr. Drake-Wayne. Merry Christmas.”

”Merry Christmas.” Tim murmurs before he slips out the doors after slipping a hundred dollar bill into the donations box.

-  
  


One of the pluses of it being Christmas was not having to deal with Barbara. Tim’s maneuvering around the city was much smoother and easier to hide without Oracles eyes and ears on him.   
  


Tim stares at the looming length of the manor, stretching out for miles and miles. He really didn’t wanna risk being caught wandering around here by anyone, opting his Red Robin mantle out for a simple tight black stealth suit he used on recon missions with the Titans.

Tim lets out a small sigh, bringing the mask up and securing it over his mouth and nose all the way down to his chin like a muzzle, his eyes bare to the view. It wasn’t so much as his identity he was worried about, but being caught as Red Robin lurking around the Manor would be a big problem. Like this, even if they somehow managed to suspect or break through Tim’s footage blockers, Tim Drake would be the last thing they’d suspect. 

Tim was confident, too. His footage editing for the cameras around the manor were completely undetectable, and he doubted Bruce or Barbara would even look back at the footage of Christmas Eve. Even if they did and managed to break through and see him, at most they’d confuse him as one of the League’s ninjas. The dagger would be enough of a cover for him. Bruce wouldn’t put that much effort or care into something that brought the bats no harm of any sorts.   
  


He also disarmed alarms and defense systems, making getting over the fence just that much easier. The floor was lain with bright white snow, the house covered in colorful Christmas lights. Tim could see Cass’ motorcycle parked in the driveway next to Jason’s and felt his heart clench. _God_, he missed Cass.

Shaking his head, he pulled out a whip. The shot of the grappling hook and the sound of its connection to stone would wake anyone in the manor up and he couldn’t afford that. Tim let out a quiet grunt as he lashed his arm forward, feeling it connect to the banister of the balcony. He tugged, feeing it was secure before he began scaling up the manor. All the downstairs windows were bulletproof and locked, courteously of Bruce’s paranoia. He _could_ have gone much less quiet through the cave but the security and extra eye of Bruce and Babs down there wasn’t worth the effort.

Tim quietly pulled himself over, rewrapping the whip carefully before securing it to his belt. It was around 5 am, sometime where it was still dark as the color black outside but also not too late or early where he’d need to worry about anyone being awake. His hands moved like clockwork over the locks as silently as he possibly could. He knew the manor like the back of his hand, hearing a familiar click and quietly pushing the door open enough just to slip in and shut it behind him with relatively no sound.

He looks around blankly at his old room.

His bed was made neatly and all his old books and pens had been arranged on the desk, old case files stacked tightly in front of the lamp. Next to it was a picture frame of him and Dick. All big grins and bright eyes in front of the carousel of a fair, cotton candy in his hands and a churro in Dick’s while one of his arms was thrown over his shoulders.

Tim clenched his fists, walking over and gently pushing the photo face down on the desk. He’d love to smash it— shatter it into a bunch of small pieces but that’d give him away in an instant. 

He looks around, but nothing of this room feels like his— not anymore. 

Tim sits on the bed for a moment, clutching his face tightly and letting in a shaky breath that’s thankfully muffled by the mask. He catches the sight of his own eyes in the mirror, the blue of them glossed with pain and wariness. He looks away.

Tim stands, walking over to the door and slowly pulling it open and slipping out with a quiet shut.

He walks carefully, stepping exactly where he knew the wood didn’t creak as he made his way down the hall towards the grand staircase. He pauses for a moment in front of Dick’s door. He really shouldn’t risk it, but he can’t help himself from slowly pushing the door open to peek his head in.

Dick is sound asleep in his bed, one leg thrown out over the edge of the mattress and an arm curled around the pillow he's hugging close to his chest, his head laid on it and hair sprawled over the white sheets.

Tim aches. Aches to go over there and climb into Dick’s bed— wake him up with his tears and hug him until Dick soothes him to sleep.

But he can’t.

So he shuts the door.

He moves on, pausing again to glance at Bruce’s door. He’d never risk going in there. Bruce would catch him in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t stop himself from leaning forward, pressing his forehead against the cool and hard wood. He imagines it as Bruce’s chest but almost laughs at how he can’t remember what it feels like to be hugged by Bruce anymore.

He avoids the vicinity of Cass and Jason’s room. Cass is the person he’s most scared of getting caught from, because he really doesn’t think he’d be able to deny her if she asks him to stay. And Jason, the guy was probably still awake in his room watching frosty the snowman while chugging beers or something.   
  
  


He does stop by Damian’s room. He peeks his head through the slightly ajar door.

_Jesus_. Damian sleeps like a fucking _corpse_. He’s laying still on his back, hands folded over his stomach where the blanket laid over his upper half. If it wasn’t for the rising and falling of his chest, Tim would literally think he’s dead.

Something soft brushes against his leg and Tim looks down to see Alfred the cat. Tim smiles, quietly shutting Damian’s door before moving slowly and carefully towards the staircase. He tightens his whip on the banister and flips down to the first floor with ease and silent feet. He tucks the whip away again and looks around. Quicker and quieter than going down the stairs, at least.

The living area is completely covered in bright Christmas lights, the mistletoes hanging from every doorway and poinsettia bouquets placed in the center of every table in sight, ranging from reds to whites to pinks.

Tim walks quietly around the couches and love seats, pausing to take in the half empty bowls of ice cream, chips, and candies. There’s bowls of leftover popcorn sitting by every couch and the table is littered with board games and Christmas movie dvd cases from _Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer_ to _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_, along with soda cans. Tim feels a heavy weight settling in him at the sight, a lump growing in his throat.

He walks around when suddenly there’s a bark from behind him and Tim freezes. He turns rapidly to see Titus peering at him curiously, teeth pulled to bark once again.

”No, Titus, no!” Tim whispers, getting on his knees and holding a placating hand out. “It’s me, Tim. Remember me?”   
  


Titus walks over, sniffing before brushing his snout against Tim’s cheek, letting out a happy bark. “Shh! Please— I need you to stay quiet, okay boy?” Tim murmurs, scratching behind the dog’s ears affectionately. Thank God Demon Brat’s dog wasn’t like the Demon Brat himself. Titus stays relatively quiet after that and Tim comes back to a stand only to freeze up entirely again when something catches his eye. 

Over the burning fireplace are stockings. He sees the names going down in order, from Alfred to Bruce to Dick to Barbara to Jason to Steph to Cass to Damian. And right in between Jason’s and Steph’s laid a full stocking, probably sewed by Alfred with the cursive letters of _Tim_.

Tim stares at his stocking, the weight of its meaning heavy on his shoulders.

Tim removes it from the nail, clenching it tightly in his hands. _No_.

With cold eyes, he carefully dumps the contents onto the floor, not caring about what was inside before he brings the sock over to Titus.

”Chew.”

Titus peers up at him curiously and Tim’s frustration forced him to rip the sock up himself, moving it under Titus’ paws. Titus paws at it but doesn’t damage it further.

“Sorry buddy, you might get blamed.” Tim whispers, face passive as he stood and walked away from the scene and over to the Christmas tree. There’s probably a hundred gifts under the tree, a couple that are most likely his, but he doesn’t think about that as he reached into a large pocket in his utility belt to pull out the sleek black box. He’d put a red bow over it with a tag, written in sleek cursive, _Damian_.

”Merry Christmas, Demon Brat.” Tim mutters, placing the box gently on the floor.

Dawn was breaking, and Tim leaves through the same way he came to the last sound of fire cackling and Titus’ saddened whines.

-

The sun is growing behind Tim, but he stares down at the tombstones of his parents. Further across the field was Bruce’s parents, a bouquet of red roses at the front. With a heavy heart, Tim tried not to think of the pink bouquet in front of his own parents’ grave. Tim falls to his knees, hugging himself as if he could disappear.

”I’m sorry.” He whispers, pulling the mask off and tossing it into the snow as tears build in his eyes. “_God_, I’m so sorry. _Sorry_.” He chokes out through a sob, pressing his face against his mother’s name.

”_I’m sorry_.”

-

Dick stares down at his phone but apart from a _Merry Christmas!_ from Kori and Wally, there aren’t any other messages.

Dick sighed, shaking his head as he pulls himself up from the bed. He moves to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, not bothering to change out of his Christmas pjs.   
  


He walks out of his room with a yawn, padding down the hall until he’s in front of Damian’s door. He knocks before he pushes the door open. “Dami?”

Damian is standing by his desk, arranging his case files when he looks over at Dick. “Richard.”   
  


Dick grins when he noticed Damian was still wearing his matching pjs Bruce had gotten them all. He pulls Damian into a tight hug, which the younger tries violently to detach himself from. “Merry Christmas Dami!”

”You will stop these infernal actions immediately, Richard!” Damian snaps, shoving at his chest. Dick ignores his attempts, carrying Damian over his shoulder, down the stairs and towards the living area. “But it’s time to open presen—“

Dick stops cold, Damian slipping out of his grasp and flipping onto his feet away from Dick with a venomous glare. “I have no interest in your strange western customs—“ Damian trails off, expression shifting to confused when he sees Dick’s pained, yet furious, gaze towards the floor. “TITUS!”

”What!?” Damian is alarmed by Dick’s fury, turning to look towards where Dick’s eyes were drawn to and he stops, staring silently.

Tim’s stocking was on the floor. Completely ripped up with the gifts Dick had stuffed in it scattered all over the floor in front of the fireplace.

Jason comes tumbling down the steps carelessly then. He walks over and takes in the tense atmosphere. “Oh come on, it’s Christmas guys. The fuck is this—“ he stops, noticing the mess on the floor. “Is that Tim’s stocking?”

No one answers, because it was obvious that it was. Jason throws a dirty glare to Damian. “What the fuck, demon brat! Tim’s not even here so was that really necessary—“

”Me!? I did nothing of the sort!” Damian snaps. “What do I have to gain from destroying such a useless item?”

”It’s not useless!” Dick’s voice boomed. He now had the stocking gripped tightly in his hands. He takes a threatening step towards Damian. “I _made_ this. I made this for _Tim_. This was _Tim’s_ stocking. _It was Tim’s_!” Dick shouts, and Damian steps back, shocked.

Jason pushes Dick back with a warning in his eyes. “_Relax_, Dick. If Damian said he didn’t do it, then he didn’t do it.”

Damian clenches his fists tightly. “Even with him gone, he taints you’re mind with misery. You truly are _weak_ Grayson.” He spits venomously, a familiar fire burning in him that he hadn’t felt since he’d last seen Tim dawn the Robin mantle.

”Damian—“ Dick snarls, grabbing his wrist and Damian moves to flip him over roughly. Dick lands on his feet graciously, not affected by the attack as he flips Damian onto his own back with quick movement. Damian slaps his arm off his chest, sitting up angrily. “_Get off me!_” 

“Don’t talk about Tim like that then! _Why_ do you continue to treat him like—“

”_What_ is going on?” A deep voice booms in the room, causing all three to turn towards the entrancing of the living area. Bruce is standing there, looking irritated with a slightly confused, but relaxed Cass peeking from behind him.

”Tim's stocking got destroyed.” Dick hisses, holding up the shredded fabric with tight hands. Bruce frowns. “How—“

”Dick thinks Damian did it.” Jason interrupts.

”I did not, you _simpleton_!” Damian shouts, throwing a remote at Jason’s head that he catches.

Jason glares at him. “I know you didn’t! And stop throwing shit at me you fucking gremlin!”

”Drake is not here. I have no interests in playing part in this fantasy play you’ve all created for a _ghost_ who’s presence hasn’t so much as whispered a touch against the walls of this manor in a year. It was most likely Titus who ripped your precious deserter boy’s infernal sock.” Damian hisses out in a quick breath, not happy at all.

”But why would Titus rip down Tim’s? The one that’s smack in the middle? That doesn’t make any sense—“ Dick began in frustration.

”I heard Dogs have a sense for detecting the good people from the bad. Maybe he should’ve ripped yours down too while he was at it.” Damian cuts him off swiftly, voice resentful. Guilt grows behind Dick’s eyes, but Damian doesn’t give him the opportunity as he shoves past both Jason and Bruce to stomp up the stairs. He passes by a photo of Tim and can’t stop the sneer that grows on his face.

”You must be having fun, huh?” Damian snarls at the face, turning his body to peer up at the large self portrait. Tim’s blue eyes are bright and his beaming smile is wide, nose crinkling slightly from how he was laughing. Like he was mocking him. Damian restrains himself from punching the glass into a thousand pieces. Tim’s eyes remind Damian of sapphire stones that his mother would have decorated on dressers in his room.

”Even with you cities upon cities away, I can never escape the pain you’ve left here.” Damian hisses pressing a firm fist against Tim’s cheek with no real force.

Tim, of course, doesn’t answer.

He just continues to smile.

\- 

There’s a knock on his door barely ten whole minutes after his brawl with Dick, and Damian is surprised when it’s not Grayson who enters, but his father.

“I did not shred Drake’s stupid sock if that’s what you’ve come here to ask of me.” Damian snips coldly. Bruce lets out a deep sigh, closing the door and walking over to sit next to Damian on his bed.

”I know you didn’t, Damian. I’m here to ask if you’re okay.” Bruce tells him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as his fingers fiddle with one another in a slight, but calm fidget.

”No. I’m not. I don’t understand how Drake can be gone but he’s _still_ causing problems in this household. I don’t understand how everyone walks around here as if everything between Drake and them are great and yet his room is still _empty_. Do you all still not comprehend that he is not here because he does not _wish_ to be here anymore?” Damian blurts in a fit of rage. 

Bruce only lowers his head slightly. “Tim’s... been busy. I can’t expect him to drop something important to come running to us—“

”You must be joking, father. Do you really believe he’s busy, and that’s why he isn’t here with us? He’s purposely making himself busy to be away from us and would spend his days rotting away in that tower—“

”He’s with Superboy for Christmas.” Bruce cuts in swiftly, voice firm.

”And that makes it any better!?” Damian cries out incredulously.

”Of course it’s not!” Bruce snaps, a flash of anger crossing his eyes and finally. _Finally_ Damian has pulled something out of his father apart from gullible _denial_. “But whatever happened between Tim and Dick was enough of an indication to me that if Tim would rather stay away then it’s for a _reason_. Two of his closest friends came back to life just a few months ago. So no, I can’t be angry at Tim for wanting to spend some time with them. I can’t blame Tim for wanting to heal with people he's most comfortable with.”

”It doesn’t bother you?” Damian murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “That it isn’t _you_ who he's most comfortable with anymore?”

A dark look swirls in the blue of his father’s eyes, like a raging storm. “Of course it bothers me, Damian. But I can’t do anything about it right now, do you understand? Tim left on his own will. When Dick left, I knew I couldn’t pester after him because things would turn for the worst. And now he’s here everyday. Because he needed space and I gave it to him. Tim needs his space too. He’ll be back when he’s ready.” 

Damian stays silent for a long moment. “Do you truly believe that Drake will come home, father?”

”I do.”

Damian feels nothing but pity for the man in front of him then. Because Bruce actually _believes_ that. This was always his father’s biggest mistake. Because yes, Dick left and space and time healed his shaky relationship with Bruce but _Tim isn’t Dick_. Why couldn’t he see that? Why couldn’t he see that the situations in which Dick and Tim left were completely different? Dick left on his own free will, but Drake _did not_. Dick could come back because _he’s_ the one who walked away. How could Drake possibly come back after being kicked to the curb as violently as he was, stripped bare of everything that made him who he was? How could he possibly come back after that?

His father presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head before walking over and opening the door. “Come back downstairs. Dick wants to talk to you and we should open gifts soon.”

Damian doesn’t answer as the door shuts, leaving him alone once more.

_Why couldn’t he see that?_

-

Damian stomps around the couch to sit in his favorite chair, bringing his legs up to hug close to his chest, resting his chin against his knees.

Dick pauses from his knitting to look up at Damian with wary eyes from where he’s curled against the corner of the couch. Damian can’t help but notice a slight red rim around the blue of his older brother’s eyes and his heart clenches at the sight.

”Damian,” Dick begins carefully, lowering the knit picks.

”What.” Damian deadpans, voice cold because that’s just who he is as a person.

”I’m sorry for... going a bit extreme about the stocking. I know you didn’t do it, I just... I haven’t been in the best moods of late. I took that out on you and I’m sorry.” Dick murmurs, voice weak and tired. Damian’s fists clenched.

“I... also apologize for Titus destroying something dear to you and something you worked hard on. It was not my intention to... sound cruel about it. It is not a useless item.” Damian grumbles out, and Dick only stares down blankly at the yarn in his lap. ”It’s okay. I overreacted. Are we good?”

Damian stares down at the _Tim_ that’s knitted into the stocking and his lips curl back bitterly. “Yes, we are fine. Can we open these gifts and be done with this strange western tradition?”   
  


That brings a small smile to Dick’s lips as he gently rubs the sewed _T_ with his thumb, his eyes never leaving the stocking. “Sure. Can we play Monopoly afterwards?”

Damian felt his heart clench. Monopoly is Drake’s favorite board game. Damian looks away. “Fine, but only because I have nothing better to do.” He manages to bark out despite a heavy feeling in his throat.

They're all gathered around the tree no later than fifteen minutes, opening gifts up.

”Fucking Steph,” Jason grumbles holding up a t-shirt that said _I survived my trip to Gotham!_

Dick burst out laughing when he saw it, taking a picture of Jason’s enraged face and sending it to Steph.

Damian looked down at his own pile of gifts, ranging from sketchbooks and expensive charcoal pencils from his father to the aquarium tickets Jason had gotten him. Cass had given him a set of Taiwanese copper ninja stars and Dick had given him a huge mug filled with tiny gifts such as candies and little key chains and pictures of them both.

”No Tim.” Cass says, voice soft.

Dick stares down at the stocking that he’d been protectively holding by his side for the rest of the day.

”Sucks right!? I even went out of my way to get him this big ass coffee mug that said _World’s Greatest Insomniac_ on it.” Jason mused, patting on a perfectly wrapped box.

”I got him a new computer.” Cass tells them with a smile, hugging the gift closer to her chest.   
  


“What about you, brooding bat?” Jason turns to Bruce who sighs at the name. “I got him a Leica S camera. Model 007.”

Dick blinks. “Isn’t that camera like 25,000 fucking dollars?”

”20, actually but yes.” Bruce throws him a look. Dick leans back. “I got him a set of tickets to go to the Gotham fair this spring.” 

Everyone turns to Damian and Damian flushes under their gazes. “I gave him a drawing.”

”A drawing.” Jason repeats in disbelief.

“Yes, a drawing.” Damian snapped. Jason reaches for Damian’s small box wrapped gift. “I wanna see—“

”No!” Damian practically shouts, lunging over and kicking Jason in the chest while grabbing the box and bolting around the other side of the chair Bruce was sitting on. Jason coughed and groaned from where he laid on the floor, clutching his chest. “Damian, how many times do I have to tell you to stop kicking your brother in the chest.” Bruce snaps. Damian only holds the box closer to his chest protectively as he rolls his eyes.

”Little shit,” Jason wheezed, sitting up with Cass’ help. He suddenly noticed a small, lone box under the tree and picks it up, reading the card. “Demon brat. You’re missing a gift.” Jason throws it at him with a dirty look and Damian catches it easily. “What’s this?”

Jason shrugs. “Don’t know. It’s not from me.”

Damian peers at the box curiously. It’s a sleek black box with a red bow wrapped around it neatly, heavy in Damian’s hands. He looks at his father but Bruce looks just as curious about it. 

Damian flips the tag around but other than his name in a pretty cursive handwriting, there’s nothing else on it. He looks up at Dick. “Is this from you?”

Dick frowns. “Uh, no? Does it not say who it’s from?”

Damian shakes his head. 

Cass tilts her head. “Not Mine.”

Damian furrows his brows. He’d already received gifts from Alfred, Brown, and Oracle. And he’d gotten gifts from the Titans when he was back at the tower a week ago.

So who’s was this?

Damian turns to his father who now looks more serious. “Don’t open it. It might be—“

”It’s just a gift.” Dick rolls his eyes. “Paranoia at its finest.”

”Still—“ Bruce began, but Damian’s stupid so he pulls the lid off. “What did I say Damian!?” Bruce hisses, obviously irritated. “It could’ve been a bomb!”

”Fuckin’ dumbass.” Jason snorts, but the room grows silent as eyes turn to peer inside the box that Damian had suddenly froze over.

”What is it?” Dick leans in to look over the coffee table curiously.

Damian shakily reaches his hand in and pulls the item out.

Jason leans back with a quirked eyebrow. “A dagger?”

But Damian has a tight grip on the dagger, quickly pulling the cover up and turning the knife over to see a familiar engraving. He blinks, his breathing becoming unsteady and tears slowly prickling the corner of his eyes.

“Damian,” Bruce says gently, putting a hand on his shoulder with a concerned look. “What’s wrong? Who gave that to y—“

”Mother.” Damian croaks out, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes roughly with the sleeve of his sweater. “Mother gave this dagger to me when I was five. After I finished my training test.”

Bruce blinks, eyebrows furrowing. “Talia gave that to you?”

”Yes, but it was abandoned in my old chambers due to the rush of my departure from the League. I... I don’t know how this got here.” Damian sniffles, hugging the dagger close to his chest.

”So a League of Assassins member broke into the manor by disabling all our security systems to drop off a Christmas gift. Cute. Oh, and nice system btw, Bats.” Jason mused, entertained and gleeful. Bruce throws Jason a pissed glare. “They shouldn’t have been able to get though undetected—“ Bruce began, only to stop abruptly once he sees the radiance of happiness shining through Damian as he held the dagger in his hands and instead let out a sigh of contempt. To hell with it. It’s not like anything bad happened. He’ll let it slide.

Damian instantly runs to his room to hang the dagger up in a safe place, and Jason takes the chance to dive forwards and carefully open the lid of Damian’s gift for Tim. “Stupid brat—“ Jason grinned evilly only to stop abruptly.

Dick also looks over.

It wasn’t a single drawing. Damian had dozens upon dozens of sheets of drawings of Tim, stapled at the side like a little book.

Jason carefully pulls it out and Dick slides onto the floor next to him as Bruce peers at the booklet over their heads.

There were various drawings. Some of Tim in his Robin suit, some of him in his normal clothes. There was one of him sleeping on the counter with a cup of coffee in his hands and another of him jumping off the ledge with a wild grin and his eyes covered by the Robin mask. 

Jason flips through the pages. There’s more, now of Tim in his Red Robin costume but there’s no smile present on his face, and his eyes look dull. There’s one of Tim curled up on the couch with his head held in his hands. 

“Jay,” Dick whispers. Jason looks up from the book with a constricted throat to see Dick holding up a single large page that’s filled with bright color. It’s Tim in his Robin suit, a wide grin and mask no where to be seen with wide blue eyes shinning happily. Surrounding him are a laughing Kon, a smiling Bart, and a grinning Cassie, all pulling Tim in a tight hug.

But then Dick turns the page and Jason feels the sketch book fall from his hands.

On the other side is all black and white pencil of the bat cave. Tim’s sitting in the center of the cave’s floor, all alone in his Red Robin suit with the cowl pulled back and his eyes are the only color on the page, a dark and hollow blue. They’re empty as they stare straight ahead and pierce into Jason’s soul, face emotionless.

Bruce doesn’t say anything.

Jason leaves the room.

Dick puts the drawings back in the box and closes it.

Cass stares out the window with a small but sad smile. “No Tim,” she repeats.

-

Tim catches Cass’ eyes from in the window and holds it for a moment. Carefully, he raises his hands to his chest to pat it slowly twice. He then forms a C with his left hand it circles it around up and down from his right shoulder to his left.

Even from this far he can see Cass’ bright smile as she repeats his motions. She also adds her pinky, an L, and her thumb with her pinky after it. 

_Merry Christmas, Tim. I love you._

Tim drops from the tree and disappears into the city. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Cass doesn’t tell anyone about Tim.
> 
> • Bruce sends all the gifts to Titans Tower the next day.
> 
> • Tim burns Dick’s tickets and shoves Bruce’s gift under his bed, never touching it.
> 
> • Tim still uses Cass’ laptop for personal things because he thinks it’s not fair to her for him to use it for work.
> 
> • He wears the Christmas sweater Barbara got him every Christmas. It says “The Season To Be Jolly It Is” with Yoda because she knows Star Wars is Tim’s favorite movie series. 
> 
> • Steph gets him a box of glow in the dark stars that he hangs above his bed, because she knows he feels calmer seeing stars since he secretly believes that people become stars when they die. He feels as if his parents are watching over him when he sleeps with them above him. It helps him sleep better and have less nightmares. Those stay at Titans Tower. 
> 
> • Jason’s mug is Tim’s favorite and he refuses to use any other for his morning cups of coffee when he’s in Gotham. He keeps it in the cupboard of his apartment in Gotham. 
> 
> • Tim yearly donates to the church in Gotham, and even visited the old man whenever he stopped by Gotham until he died of a heart attack a year later. Tim went to his funeral and paid for the funeral costs. He still sends donations every Christmas.
> 
> • Rose visits Tim at least once a month for a day when he’s alone in the tower so he doesn’t have to be alone the whole time. They spar most of the time or just watch Home Alone. Always Home Alone and nothing else. Tim has to restrain himself from asking her to stay for the whole break because he knows she has other people to go to. 
> 
> • Every year Tim breaks down on Christmas Eve because he doesn’t want to be alone but he won’t go back to Gotham and he knows he can’t celebrate with the Titans at East because they’d find out something was wrong and he couldn’t afford it. 
> 
> • He brakes the mirrors every Christmas and keeps spares in the basement specifically for those moments. He refuses to destroy the decorations after the first time because it makes him feel guilty, so he trashes his room instead. He makes sure the mirrors are all different designs so when Conner asks him he can use the excuse that he has a hobby for intricate mirrors and changing them each year.
> 
> • He has to stop himself from asking Conner if he can go with him and Kara to Kent farm for Christmas. 
> 
> • Kara does have a small crush on Tim but barely.
> 
> • Rose and Tim have no romantic feelings towards one another. They just recognize each other as sad fucks. 
> 
> • Both Rose and Cass know what happened to Tim and where he went the first few months he disappeared after Bruce’s return. They’re the only ones who do. 
> 
> • Tim has the biggest soft spot for Bart and Gar during Christmas because like him, they don’t have their parents. Especially Gar because of how early on he lost his mother. 
> 
> • Tim thinks Kori hugs the way Dick does and makes sure to hug her every Christmas when she picks up Gar. 
> 
> • Tim visits his parents’ graves every Christmas Eve when he knows the Bats are sleeping. He goes back to San Francisco before morning.
> 
> • Oracle never catches him.
> 
> • When Tim first gets Damian’s gift is when he gets his epiphany and realizes he doesn’t hate Damian. He cries the first time he sees all the drawings and makes sure to send Damian gifts every Christmas under Jon’s name, knowing Damian would be too stubborn, embarrassed, and shy to thank Jon for them. Damian never finds out Tim gave him the Dagger. To this day, Damian’s drawing of the Titans hangs proudly over Tim’s desk, and underneath he pins the booklet of the sketches. Tim never turns it to the other side, and only looks at that side when he’s feeling especially depressed so he can turn it back around and remember the good he has in his life. (Hope this didn’t depress everyone too much)
> 
> Merry Christmas! :)


End file.
